


A White Christmas

by Chemical_Defect, Fandoms_Unite



Series: The Gambit [1]
Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Adoption, Anal Sex, Blow Jobs, Christmas, Christmas Drama, Developing Sherlock Holmes/John Watson, Difficult Relationships, Family, Family Drama, Family Feels, Father Christmas - Freeform, Friends to Lovers, Hand Jobs, Horses, Humor, John's scar is acting up, Johnlock Roulette, Languages, Light Angst, Light BDSM, M/M, Massage, Minor Mycroft Holmes/Greg Lestrade, Mrs Holmes cooks a lot, Mrs Hudson has a rival in cooking, Mycroft Holmes as Father Christmas, Parentlock, Playing in the Snow, Scars, Sex, Sherlock Is Insatiable, Sherlock is Not a Virgin, Sherlock rides, Sibling Relationship, Sibling Rivalry, Slice of Life, Train Sex, mention of drugs, more tags than I can think of
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-04
Updated: 2018-12-08
Packaged: 2019-06-21 20:54:59
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 20
Words: 141,390
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15566235
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Chemical_Defect/pseuds/Chemical_Defect, https://archiveofourown.org/users/Fandoms_Unite/pseuds/Fandoms_Unite
Summary: For Rosie's first real Christmas, she has requested something special.Sherlock puts everyone onto the case and he and John realise that, were they to ask for something special for Christmas they'd already have it - right under their noses.





	1. Of leggings and princesses

**Author's Note:**

> We hope you'll enjoy this story.  
> It'll go into two parts, but part I (complete) can be considered as self-sufficient and we'll post according to a regular schedule - a chapter per week.  
> Please let us know of anything that doesn't add up.  
> The work in unbeta-ed and un-Britpicked although we've done our best, all errors are our own.  
> We thrive on kudos and comments, please give us some?
> 
> (Ok, that sounded a bit off. But you know what I mean^^)
> 
> Also, for those of you hesitant to leave kudos/comments - the kudos are acknowledged and much, much appreciated :) and the comments are answered to :)  
> Thank you :)

 

            Baker Street was alight with the soft twinkling glow of fairy lights strung on the mantle, around the doorways, on the tree, on the stair rail, and around the windows. Sherlock had grumbled and complained but John knew it had all been an act. Whatever made Rosie happy, and apparently Sherlock doing an impression of the Grinch made her laugh, was how things usually went.

So now somehow he was staring at the screen of his laptop and glancing over at his mobile while keeping an eye on Rosie who had fallen asleep curled up on the couch watching Beauty and the Beast The Enchanted Christmas. He looked at Sherlock who had all four laptops and one... two...three mobiles going and shook his head. ‘Sherlock, remind me again, exactly what the hell am I supposed to be doing?!’ He knew what he was supposed to be doing: apparently watching for someone somewhere to be selling Belle leggings in Rosie's size but why it had to be so much work... 

Not only were they involved but Sherlock had dragged Molly and Greg into it. And somehow got Mycroft and his ultra high speed government internet access working on it. More likely Anthea was doing the dirty work but still. Mycroft did have a soft spot when it came to Rosie. Everyone did. Especially Sherlock.

'Treasure hunt, John! Rosie deserves that we find her those leggings she's asking for. Ha!' he exclaimed, all but crashing into one of the computers' screen. Quickly, however, his face became a mask of disappointment.

'Why, John? Why did that seller go to all the trouble of posting an advert for supposedly Belle leggings when one look at the picture clearly shows they're Elsa's...!’   
John shrugged. ‘Well, to some people one Disney Princess is much like another. At least she likes Belle because Belle likes books. And thanks to you, Rosie's a bit obsessed with books.’ Smiling he squeezed Sherlock's shoulder. ‘I'm glad you read to her so much and it's made her love books and reading already. I guess we have to keep looking.' He sighed as Sherlock returned to pacing the room, typing madly on his phones, presumably demanding results. There was no way that Rosie would not have her present. The one she specifically asked for.   
‘I'm telling you, Sherlock, they're almost impossible to get and you have to have insanely fast internet to claim a pair in a live sale.'  
Sherlock let out a sigh, an apologetic look on his face as he crouched in front of the little girl. His sudden movement had woken her up and she looked at him with big, curious eyes. 'Sorry, Rosie, it's taking a bit of time. But we will find them, I promise. I don't think your Daddy would like it at all if his baby girl didn't have what she asked for. Would you, John?' he asked nonchalantly.  
'Of course she deserves them. She deserves everything she wants. But that's not good for her. I don’t want her growing up a spoiled brat because she always gets everything she wants.' 

Rosie giggled smushing Sherlock's cheeks in her small hands. ‘Shock fishy!’ Laughing she looked up at John. "Shock fishy face!" John laughed. ‘Yes, I see that sweetheart. You'd love Sherlock no matter what, wouldn't you sweetheart.’ Nodding she patted Sherlock's cheek. ‘Wosie wuv Shock.’ John smirked. ‘Well I think that settles it.  Really, Sherlock, she'd be happy with anything you got her. She's more than a bit mad about you.’

Sherlock became silent for a minute, taking in the look of adoration in Rosie's bright eyes. A soft, genuine smile grew on his lips 'Sherlock loves Rosie too. And that's why I'm going to treat you like a Princess, young lady,' he said, scooping her up. 'A beautiful, educated Princess,' he added as he kissed her cheek and picked up a book. 'The Adventure of the Missing...' Oh, no. Not that one. What about... This one?' he asked both Rosie and her father, to whom he showed the cover. 'Classic, but I'm sure she'll like it.’

While he was reading, sat next to John on the sofa, Sherlock kept a wary eye on the computers. Rosie would not grow up a spoilt entitled brat. John was right, of course he was, he thought, warmth pooling in his chest, so much love was around him.

 

One of his phones pinged.

'Lestrade,' he said as his eyes fell on it. 'Can you tell me what he's saying?' he asked, holding Rosie closer to him, expecting good news.

Rose squealed happily reaching for the phone. ‘Unle Geg!! Hi!!’ She waved at the phone. John laughed. ‘You do know he is _never_ going to let it go that you have Scotland Yard scouring the web for leggings.’

Greg sighed. ‘I don't know how I let myself get talked into these things...I'm not good at these things. Why aren't you harassing your brother and making him use his super secret high speed government internet to find these leggings? And hello Rosie.’ He smiled. ‘How do I work the video chat thing again? I want to see Rosie when I'm talking to her.’

John shook his head with a laugh. How the hell had he ended up so lucky? When he'd moved in with Sherlock he'd gained an entire family. A strange, slightly dysfunctional family, but it was still a family. There wasn't one of them he wouldn't trust with his life or Rosie's. And he knew any of them would do anything for his little angel.

Greg waved. ‘Hello sweetheart! Sorry, Uncle Greg hasn't had any luck. Yet. Still looking. So's Molly. And seriously, why isn't your brother doing this?’

'Oh but he is. Using the government's power to help his family is Mycroft's utility. Better applied when looking for leggings than for criminals,' Sherlock answered ironically. 'Besides, as everything else, he has Anthea to do it for him or whoever is working for him at the moment,' he added.

John snorted a laugh. ‘Of course your brother has his minions doing the work for him. I hope they've got a hell of a benefits package for what they put up with on a daily basis… Christ...’ He giggled. ‘I can't even imagine...’

'Thank you, Greg. For doing that. For our little girl. That's very nice of you,' Sherlock said nonchalantly. It was Christmas time. He knew by now that kindness was expected, and John would be sure to mention it.

Greg smiled with a shrug. ‘Yeah, well, just so happens that she's got me wrapped around her little finger just like everyone she meets. Next time I've got one of the higher ups giving my arse a good chewing I'll just plop Rosie in front of them and that'll end things since she's irresistible.’

'Much as I agree with you - our little Rosie **_is_** irresistible - this is no reason to use that type of language.' Sherlock retorted, his voice just a little curt. He didn't want to set too bad an example for Rosie, especially not at this time of year. It was important to John that she learns the importance of Christmas and kindness. 'Remember how easily children that age absorb everything they can hear. We don't want Rosie to learn bad words, do we, John? No, our little Princess doesn't need these words. She's got books and Sherlock to read them to her while her Daddy does something boring,' his tone gone from critical to doting as he finished talking to his daughter. His daughter. Sherlock still could not believe that John was back in 221b Baker Street, with his infant now toddler child. He could not believe that they were raising John's child together, or that John implicated him in every aspect of Rosie's and his life. He could not believe - no, starting thinking about sentimental things was not good. Not in this case. He would end up a crying emotional blob and that couldn't be a good example either if John wanted her to know that emotions were good and that caring was, in fact, an advantage.

            Rosie giggled babbling happily as she looked up at Sherlock and leaned into him while waving at Greg. John chuckled. ‘Well I have a feeling we're going to have to work on teaching her what words we _don’t use_ just because she sometimes hears Daddy and Uncle Greg using the bad words when things happen.’ Putting a mug of tea by Sherlock he squeezed his shoulder. He loved the way Sherlock had thrown himself into loving and taking care of Rosie. Sherlock had read every baby book there was and frequently argued with people over parenting methods. It was adorable. Giving Rosie her sippy cup of milk he ruffled her golden curls. ‘You telling Uncle Greg a story?’

Sherlock embraced her and dropped a kiss on Rosie's head, missing John's hand by a fraction of seconds, his lips brushing against the back of John's hand.

John threw a quick glance at Sherlock, eyes bright. It could have been joy at having such a happy moment with his daughter, it could have been the reflection of the candles in the flat, it could have been because of the couple of beers he had drank earlier... Or maybe, just maybe, it could have been curiosity that made John's eye shine. John averted his eyes. Nothing had happened, anyway.  'Your daddy has a very good idea, Rosie. Now that you've told him how wonderfully exciting your day's been, let's choose a story for him. How about this one?' he asked, merely turning the page of the book he was currently holding. Rosie shook her head. Sherlock beamed. 'Clever girl! You know there are not several stories in this book, don't you? he asked her, a large smile on his face. He stood up, Rosie in his arms, to take another book. There had always been plenty of books in John and his living room, mostly of a scientific or fictional nature. Now, however, most of the books on the shelves in the living room were young children's book. 'Papa!' Rosie exclaimed. 'Papa!' she repeated, this time grasping at the hem of Sherlock's dressing gown to catch his attention. Momentarily stunned, Sherlock did his best to ignore the name Rosie had given him. It probably was accidental and of no consequence.

John grinned. ‘Well, I was wondering when she'd say it around you. I think she's been trying it out on her own for a few days. I've only heard her say it once or twice and wasn't sure she would ever say it around you.’ He wasn't surprised. He had been a little at first but it had quickly worn off. After all Sherlock was just as involved in her life as he was, maybe a little more. After all he'd never kept a spreadsheet of her likes and dislikes of different brands and types of baby food and the resulting output. Sherlock was amazing with her. She completely adored him and wanted to be in the middle of whatever he was doing. Even if he was reorganizing the Mind Palace she wanted to be sitting nearby waiting for him to come out so he could read her a story. And there was no question in his mind that Sherlock would not hesitate to put his life on the line for the little girl in his arms. ‘I don't mind you know...’ he murmured softly walking over to where they were choosing another book. ‘You're just as much her parent as I am.’

John's words brought about a warm feeling in Sherlock's chest. His back lost its strained posture and his head hung low for a few seconds, relishing John's accepting words. Where Sherlock was concerned there was more to it than meet the eye, but he was not about to spoil any glimpse of a chance he could have. Certainly not after what he'd just told him.

'Thank you, John,' he murmured as softly as he did when Sherlock felt him close. 'I... Appreciate it.'

Sherlock had not been able to say everything he had to say - he still wasn't good at articulating thanks and compliments but he was trying. He was glad, however, that John knew him and was able to read between the lines and understand that he had used an understatement and that his acceptation meant a lot to him.

'Now John, help us choose a book to read to Uncle Greg,' he said.

On John's phone, Greg was visibly watching the exchange with eager interest.

John smiled. ‘Well we still have several chapters of The Princess Bride to finish. She loves hearing you read that one since you do the voices so well.’ He squeezed Sherlock's shoulder gently. Living with Sherlock for so long he'd learnt to read him pretty well most of the time. He'd seen the subtle stiffening of his spine and lift of his chin that was a clear sign that he was trying to hide his feelings behind his armour.

He sighed shaking his head slightly. It was his own fault that Sherlock was so guarded around him. Especially about Rosie. Things had been bad. Very bad. The things he'd done to him, the blame he wrongly placed on Sherlock for Mary's death, the harm he'd done to Sherlock that could have killed him. It didn't matter if it was part of Sherlock's bigger, completely insane, plan. He still shouldn't have let it happen. ‘We're not leaving.’ He murmured more to himself than anything. ‘Not again.’ So much had gone wrong and now he was going to spend a long time trying to fix it.

Smiling at Rosie he smiled. ‘You want Papa to read more Princess Bride to you and let Uncle Greg hear all the funny voices? You always like that.’ 

'Yeah guys, if you wouldn't mind hurrying up, I want to hear the story now,' chuckled Greg. 'Papa, eh?' he asked Sherlock in a slightly mocking tone. 'Never would have taken you for a soft one,' he added.  'And John,' he continued,' I'd never have taken you for... Well. Settling. Not so soon after Mary passed.’

John shrugged. ‘It's where I need to be. I couldn't stay there. Wasn't home. Baker Street will always be home. With all the surveillance Mycroft has in the area, I knew it was the safest place Rosie could be. Not to mention Mrs. Hudson's always more than willing to watch her. And she's crazy about Sherlock.’ He smiled settling on the couch with them.

He smirked. ‘Yeah, well, you should know how soft the Holmes' can be once you get under all that armour.’

'I'll have both of you know that I am not soft.' Sherlock huffed.

‘How _is_ Mycroft doing anyway? And as if you two had room to talk with how you're always finding some little something Rosie just _has_ to have and dropping it by for her. The other day Rosie spotted something that she thought Uncle Myc really needed to have.’

Rosie giggled. ‘Unca Myc!!’ John nodded. ‘That's right. We got him a very nice present.’ Getting up he retrieved the umbrella from where it had been tucked for safety. ‘She knows Uncle Myc always has an umbrella and he has a very important job with the government.’ ‘Goment! Unca Myc!’ Rosie giggled. John ruffled her curls grinning wickedly as he held up the umbrella. ‘I think it suits him. Rosie will be crushed if he doesn't use it.’

 

Sherlock pretended not to hear the first part of what John was saying. He'd said it already on several occasions but somehow there was more... Candour in his voice as he said he felt home here. Not here with him though, but that John considered Baker Street as home brought up something sweet and warm in his chest. Bittersweet, but as the song goes _thank you John for listening to this all the time... It's now stuck in my hard drive and I can't get rid of it..._ 'You can't always get what you want'.

'Please John, don't mention... _that_. It's my _brother_ you're talking about,' he said, offended that John would even allude to his brother having any kind of relationship. Worse yet, an amorous relationship.

'But I agree, this umbrella and its... Joyous... colours would suit Mycroft without the shadow of a doubt. Rosie will be _absolutely devastated_ if he doesn't use it,' he added, a smirk on his lips.

John chuckled. ‘Sherlock, you're as soft as it comes when Rosie's involved. And that's how it should be. You even let her have the last of Mrs. Hudson's chocolate biscuits without a second thought. You never even let me have the last one. You always manage to steal it off my plate,’ he teased before sobering a bit. ‘And I couldn't do this without you. Wouldn't want to. Home's not always a place. It's people too. You. And Mrs. Hudson...’ 

Rosie gripped the umbrella, pointing the handle toward the phone. "Oonitorn Unca Myc!" Snorting a laugh, John nodded. "She knows he works for the government and that has something to do with a unicorn. She insisted we get it for him.” 

'Yes, well, she does need them more than I. She is growing, she needs it. You, on the other hand... I'm sorry to tell you that, but you're not growing anymore,' Sherlock said, a playful tone to his voice. He might have crunched his nose, resisting to stick his tongue at John, before he turned to Greg, nodding vehemently. 'She was adamant. I suggest you come around, Greg. You'll see the little angel and she'll be delighted to see you. And it'll have the added bonus of not having Mycroft come around. He does too often for my taste,' he added in an undertone as an afterthought, to no one in particular. 'Princess Rosie's wishes rule us all, you must make them your command!' Sherlock concluded, putting on a funny, high-pitched voice to make Rosie laugh.

Laughing, John lightly elbowed Sherlock in the ribs. ‘Yeah, she may be growing and 'need' them, but what's _your_ excuse for devouring Mrs Hudson's famous chocolate biscuits like you're starving and haven't eaten in weeks? I _know_ you're eating regularly, especially for you, because Rosie and I are here most of the time. And she gets in a mood if you don't eat and then starts trying to feed you.’ Laughing he shook his head and smirked. 'I don't know Sherlock, maybe if Greg was around more it would make Mycroft just "happen to be in the area" more so that they can "accidentally" run into each other and have to have a discussion over things that "don't concern us".  You do realize that Christmas with your parents is going to be even more unbearable this year,' he teased. ‘They can only fuss over Rosie so much before she starts in on other things.’

Rosie squealed happily giggling at Sherlock and hugging him. ‘Shock funny!’ Looking up at him she cocked her head. ‘Unca Mytoft an' Unca Gweg?’

'Yes, Rosie darling. Uncle Mycroft and Uncle Greg,' he replied, hugging her back. 'Clever girl,' he added, a proud smile on his face.

Sherlock rolled his eyes. 'I don't need an excuse. But if you need to hear one, I was here before you and Mrs Hudson obviously bakes them more for me than for you. She'd use a different kind of flour if she really baked them for you,' he answered, inventing a deduction that he hoped sounded probable.

John snorted a giggle. ‘Yeah, but Mrs. Hudson likes me better. I've never shot holes in her walls or filled the flat with possibly toxic smoke or played the violin at all hours of the morning.’

'That special flour you're talking about is for _toddlers_ , Sherlock, not for grown men!' Mrs Hudson shouted from down the stairs. He had probably given his fake deduction too loudly.

‘And there's your proof the biscuits are for Rosie and not you,’ John concluded.

'Ah but both of you always said I was a toddler or at least a child,' Sherlock replied with a touch of pain in his voice. 'John, please. Don't talk about Christmas,' he said, barely faked horror in his voice. 'We shouldn't have to endure Christmas at my parents',' he said pensively. 'Why can't we have it here, all three of us? Wouldn't you like it better?' he asked Rosie.

Shaking his head John smiled. ‘We either go there or they'll come here. You know they don't want to miss their first Christmas with Rosie. If you don't want them around disrupting the flow of things here then we have to go there. You can just cross your fingers that they'll be much more interested in Rosie and how Greg and Mycroft are doing than in you. I'm sure Rosie would love to have more Christmas, wouldn't you my little angel.’

Rosie giggled looking up at Sherlock and very proud of her first deduction. ‘More Tismas Shock! More Tismas!!’ Nodding John smiled. ‘Well, there you have it.’ 

'I suppose I'll have to endure it, then,' he said, resigned. 'Who can resist little Rosie?' he added, doting.

Rosie smiled up at him snuggling close. ‘My Shock!’ John smiled. ‘Yeah he's ours and we'll keep him. Just the way he is. Even if both of you pout and throw tantrums from time to time. We'll keep you.’ He patted Sherlock's knee. ‘It won't be so bad. They'll spend most of their time making a fuss over Rosie, Mycroft and Greg to pay much attention to either of us. I don't think Greg's met your lovely parents yet.’

A swarm of butterflies took off in Sherlock's stomach. It must have shown, despite his efforts to conceal it - they had an audience and as much as he loved having one for showing off he didn't quite like it as much when it came to private matters.

'I hope you're not too daunted to meet them, Greg. John thinks they are a delight, apparently. You probably will, too. Please distract as much of the attention from me as you can with your...' he made a wave in the general direction of Greg that could mean anything and everything '... at Christmas dinner. I still don't understand why I have to attend. If they want so badly to spend Christmas with Rosie, why don't you go with her, John?’

John snorted rolling his eyes. ‘Because they're _your_ parents, Sherlock and they're lovely people who didn't bat an eye with all that... business... that was going on with Mary. Didn't even bat an eye and carried on like nothing was going on. But your Mum's more clever by half than to be oblivious. Your Da too. You're lucky to see them once or twice a year. Besides Rosie would be miserable without you. You know she'll hardly go to sleep now without you reading to her or playing something for her. You're going. That's final.’

'As if nothing _were_ going on,' he corrected before he saw a disapproving look appear on John's face. 'Oblivious to what? Do not forget that even though you qualified them as 'ordinary' the first time you saw them, nothing in the 'whole Mary business' was a secret for them.’

‘Of course it wasn't.’ John snorted. ‘Your Mum can see through people just like you can. Of course they knew everything. I know your Mum was doing the 'kill them with kindness' bit. If it's any comfort I'm sure Mycroft hates going home for the holidays even more. He whined and complained a hell of a lot more than you.’

'Oh, I'm sure he does - how do you know that?’

‘A  bit hard to miss your brother's bitching about having to be out of the office for a day when he was glued not just to his mobile but had his laptop too and Anthea waiting in a car just down the road. He rolled his eyes so much that I could have sworn they'd get stuck in the back of his head.’ He chuckled.

'Language, John. And then he says I love to be dramatic.’

_Ping!_

_Ping! Ping!_

'Haha!' Sherlock exclaimed, all but leaping out of the sofa. 'We've found them!’

He bent down to collect Rosie in his arms. 'Dearest darling we've found them!’ He turned around quickly, gently throwing her in the air, before catching her up, messing her hair and putting a resounding kiss on her cheek. 'Snow White won't be the fairest of them all when you've got your Belle leggings! Ha, it's Christmas!’

Squealing with giggles she held on to him. ‘Adain!! Up!! Shock, Rosie UP!!’ John laughed, shaking his head. Most people wouldn't even think of letting Sherlock anywhere near their child but here he was watching Sherlock toss Rosie in the air and catch her as if she weighed no more than a feather.  ‘Belle! Me Belle!’ Giggling she patted Sherlock's cheeks with her chubby hands. ‘Don't know and probably don't want to know how you managed to get them, but thank you. From both of us.’ John smiled at them. Laughing he shook his head again. ‘And your brother is an even bigger drama queen than you are. Following people around in those big, silent black cars with tinted windows, kidnapping and interrogating people for no good reason.’

'I for one am happy he followed me around,' intoned Greg. 'Means I can stop being on the lookout for the leggings then, I suppose?' he added a relieved smile on his face. 'Oh, I'm glad you've found them. Just have to admit it was a bit... exhausting.’

‘You've only been at it a couple of days. I've been living with this insanity for a couple of weeks. Day in and day out. The only time I've had a break from it is when I'm at the clinic.’ Chuckling he shook his head.

'So, John. What can you tell me about Mr and Mrs Holmes?’ he asked after a brief pause. ‘Protective parents, I suppose?’

‘A bit. Believe me, you do **_not_** want to get on his Mum's bad side. But they're charming, kind people. Impossible not to like. A bit protective, but when your sons are geniuses you get a bit protective of them and their special talents. Both of them are brilliant in their own way.’

 

'Rosie, come let's go taunt the mirror. We'll tell him. And leave your Daddy for a reprieve of all the _insanity_ he's lived through,' Sherlock scoffed, marching to the bathroom.

'How did _you_ \- Hm, looks like someone's having a strop, there.’

John shrugged. ‘He'll get over it. He always does. You know that as well as I do. He's just in a mood because I'm "making him" go for Christmas with his parents. It's one day. You know Sherlock and Mycroft both are deathly allergic to expressing their feelings.’ Snorting he rolled his eyes. ‘But I'm pretty sure he'll soften up. He doesn't know but they're getting Rosie a puppy. They got in touch with me to make sure it would be ok. She'll be thrilled and Sherlock will be overjoyed. You know how he is about dogs.’

'Yeah, I know. You know him better than I do, you're most likely right. Damn! I'll have a word with Mycroft. But, John. A puppy, in the flat? You sure?’

John shrugged. ‘What's one more to add to the mix? Sherlock's home most of the time and will take it out. Probably. If he's not doing whatever it is he does in his head. But they promised the pup would be well trained and as long as we put in a couple doggie doors for it to be able to get out to the back garden, everything should be ok. I'm not sure it's really for Rosie or if they're giving it to Rosie so I don't have to tell Sherlock I know how much he's wanted a dog and I'm giving him a puppy.’ He shrugged. ‘It wouldn't surprise me.’

'Replay that for me, John? You're giving Sherlock a puppy, the thing he'd want most but never admitted to for Christmas? Well, technically it's Rosie who's getting one, but…’

‘Yup...’ he sighed running a hand through his hair. ‘Don't ask me how it happened. It's a talent his Mum has. She wanted to know what I was getting him and one thing led to another and now Rosie's getting a puppy but really it's Sherlock getting the puppy and me getting it for him. You just kind of end up going along with the whole thing and you have no idea how it happened.’

'I know what you're gonna say, John, but just think about it, don't bite my head off okay? You do realise that you going to Sherlock's parents for Christmas with your kid, you knowing them so well you end up conspiring for presents, you still living with Sherlock even though you have a baby - she'll need to have her own room at some point, by the way - Well, all of this and plenty other details lead to only one conclusion. I'll leave you to draw it on your own.’

John sighed. ‘Believe me, I've thought about it. The downstairs is liveable. Not ideal, but liveable. At least it'd give Rosie her own room. Sherlock could turn mine into a lab or something. He shrugged. ‘And I'm not conspiring with them. I just know how Holmes think to know exactly what this is. It's half them giving Sherlock a puppy too. Christ, Greg, I don't know. Some days I think I have this all sorted out and then the next I'm right back to having no bloody clue…’

'Can I give my two cents here, John?’

He sighed, waving a hand. ‘Might as well, mate. In for a penny, in for a pound... Always seems to be how it is when Sherlock's involved.’

' _A_ \- 'Liveable' is not enough. You're not going to enjoy that in the long term. If at all. Which brings me to point _B_ ' he held a second finger in the air 'John, I'm not sure you're meant to...have any clue. Not without Sherlock.’

Running a hand over his face he sighed. ‘I don't know. Hudders has talked about giving us the building when she decides to move in with her sister in a few years. That'd free up a more liveable space. I've already bollocksed things up enough. Especially for Sherlock. I got him shot. He died on the table, Greg. It was a near thing they got him back. Then all the shit with Smith. And that's on top of him sacrificing three years of his life to keep the rest of us safe... There are days I'm not sure I'm good for him... All a bit codependent really...’

Greg snorted. 'Sorry, mate, I don't deny that it's all been a bit... dangerous and all but, I mean...If you need proof that you're good for him and together, just look at how happy your little one is. Just saying. Oh, I was talking with Molly the other day. She asked what Rosie really wanted for Christmas. Said you should consider giving her _that_ instead of only those leggings. Though she'll be thrilled, of course.’

John managed a half smile. ‘Care to take a bit of your own advice there? Although I will admit that you've got a tougher go of it than I did. We all know underneath that armour of "I'm a high functioning sociopath" that Sherlock's a big softie. You'll have better luck with Mycroft since he knows you've always kept an eye on Sherlock. Believe it or not I think he's loosening up a bit. Just a bit.’ Smiling he nodded. ‘I've got quite a few things for Rosie that Mrs Hudson's keeping tucked away in one of her closets. A Belle doll, some books, a kid safe chemistry set. Nothing too over the top.’

'I'm not in Molly's shoes, but I _think_ you've missed the point of her question. Anyway. I'll leave you take care of your two kids and - John? Think about what we've just talked about? Got to run now, duty calls.’

John smirked. ‘Yeah well I'm sure that car will wait for you. I'm sure you're in for a very pleasant night. At least one of us is getting a leg over these days. And I'll think about it. Not that I haven't been thinking about it all for years.’


	2. Tale as Old as Time

John hung up with Greg and went to find Sherlock and Rosie. ‘Thought I'd make hot chocolate for anyone who's interested. We still have some of the biscuits Mrs. Hudson brought up earlier.’

Rosie was babbling away and Sherlock was _clearly_ trying to focus on her. His look of utter joy from a moment ago had left his face. His smiles to Rosie didn't meet his eyes. Sherlock was wearing his armour, his protective mask. 

John squeezed his shoulder gently. ‘Hey. Why don't you come have some hot chocolate. I'm sorry. You know I was teasing. I wouldn't want you to change. Ever. If you did, you wouldn't be the Sherlock I know so well. Thought I'd put on Princess Bride for Rosie and let her fall asleep. I know she's all excited over her leggings.’

Sherlock kept his eyes on Rosie. He ever so slightly bent his head to acknowledge the touch. 'I know. The walls are thin, John,' he said in a sigh. 'You should put Beauty and the Beast. More fitting to her celebratory glee,' he added. 'Besides, Princess Bride is better to read. Isn't it Rosie?’

She bounced happily looking up at John. ‘Belle! Princess story.’

Laughing he nodded. ‘Well I think that answers that. Beauty and the Beast it is and Sherlock will read to you after we have hot chocolate and biscuits. You'll share with Sherlock, won't you?’ Nodding she hugged Sherlock.

‘Yup! Share.’

‘That's my girl.’ He bragged on her. ‘Come on you two, let's have some fun.’ He slid his arm around Sherlock's shoulders. ‘As a family.’

Sherlock automatically smiled when Rosie hugged him, his body melting. But he tensed when he sensed John's arm around his shoulder. He was processing the information he had heard and the confirmation John had just supplied. Without thinking he stood up, gave his hand to Rosie to hold. 'Let's get that hot chocolate, then.' He tried to aim at enthusiastic but his heart was not really in it. His brain was busy.

Rosie blinked up at him knowing something wasn't right. ‘Shock?’ She leaned into him. ‘Up?’ John smoothed her hair gently. ‘He's ok sweetheart. Just thinking.’ He scooped her up. ‘Hot chocolate and biscuits while you watch Beauty and the Beast ok. I bet Sherlock will let you wrap up in a blanket and sit in his chair with him while you watch.’

'Of course,' he replied absent-mindedly.

Sherlock was crouched in his armchair, his fingers steepled underneath his chin, enveloped in a dressing-gown with Rosie next to him, wrapped up in a yellow and black striped blanket. Rosie had quickly taken to mirror Sherlock's poses, down to the pouting. This was no exception.

John sighed. It was time to bring out the big guns then. He'd completely ruined the night and now he had to salvage what he could of it. Of course they'd be dealing with a hyperactive toddler until the sugar crash coma set in but it was a small price to pay to see them both smiling. Making sure the hot chocolate was extra rich he topped each cup with a generous dollop of whipped cream and arranged the last of the biscuits on a plate for them to share. ‘You two enjoy. I'll put the movie on and work on washing up some of the dishes.’ He dropped a kiss on Rosie's head and lightly smoothed Sherlock's curls.

'Thank you, John.’ Sherlock's voice was less distant, he was coming to the end of his analysing the available data. Processing information and correctly relating them to feelings had never been his forte. Over the years however, he had got to understand and process some more easily. He read in John's body that he was tensed, upset about something. He didn't like when John was in that state and did what he could to make the message across that he wasn't cross. Not at him. How could he ever be?

Rosie poked him gently offering up half a biscuit while chewing the other half. ‘Shock? Eat.’ Whenever he got to thinking too much Daddy always made him eat and it helped. ‘Bizzycut.’ She held it up.

John smiled wiping down the table. His little girl was so smart. She'd picked up on all sorts of things. Especially how to handle Sherlock. Absently humming along with the music he watched them. The antenna on the top of Rosie's hooded bee blanket quivered as she babbled about the movie.

'Don't you find ludicrous all those wardrobes, chandeliers, silverware... all of it... that they're singing together?’ Rosie protested, clearly disagreeing. 'Hm. It's your opinion. You choose to see it that way, Rosie. What about the Beast? What do you think about him?’

John settled in his chair with a mug of tea. ‘Well you're forgetting two important things, Sherlock. One, Magic. And two, those people who are all now forks and teapots and clocks and candleholders lived and worked together for years. Things are difficult so they hang in there and support each other the best they can.’

‘Beest grrrr hug!’ Rosie protested.

John laughed. ‘He does need a hug so he won't be so cranky. That's a very good idea sweetheart.’

Sherlock gave a half-smile. 'I agree, but wouldn't you say he's entitled to be...'cranky'? He explicitly told them not to...And here they are, disregarding his feelings - and his express orders,' he quickly added, realising he'd said more about himself than of the Beast.

John chuckled. ‘But they're going out of their way to make their first guest in who knows how many years feel welcome and comfortable. A guest, not a prisoner. They're doing their job. Not the one he wants them to do, but the one they were trained to do.’

'There's always something, isn't there?' he replied. 'Faced with the same type of rebellion, I wouldn't go soft on them. He barely smacked their non-existent fingers. Who does that?’

‘Because deep down he knows it's his fault that they're all in this mess and that he's their only hope of getting out. He's known these people his entire life. Probably closer to many of them than his own royal parents. They still cook and clean for him. If he was too harsh on them they could easily refuse to serve him and he'd be stuck. Like anyone else could just come to the castle and work there.’ He shook his head. ‘I don't think that's how it works.’

'If he _were_. He clearly doesn't care for eating well though. Or much of anything. It is all transport, I agree with him.’

‘Ah but even 'just transport' can be pretty nice sometimes. Especially when you have a cute little bee all snuggled up to you who's more than happy to share her biscuits with you. Transport's not entirely useless when your little bee wants to climb up in your lap and give you hugs and kisses. And I'm sure there are other things that make your transport interesting and pleasant...’

'John,' Sherlock said severely. 'I do understand what you're saying. I don't want to talk about _that_ ,' he added, distress evident in his voice despite his very best efforts to conceal it.

Rosie blinked up at him blue eyes very serious. ‘Shock! Shhh!!’ she scolded before snuggling back into him and focusing on the movie again.

John chuckled. ‘All right, all right, hint taken, I'll drop it. Just saying.... I've got the rest of the week off at the clinic. Things are likely to be pretty slow anyway. We won't see too many illnesses or injuries until after Boxing Day I'd guess. Usually how it goes. People so wrapped up in the holiday that they don't realize they're sick until after the excitement's died down a bit. Don't have quite enough snow for sledding yet so I don't expect to see too many sledding injuries.’

 

'I'm sorry, Rosie darling,' Sherlock replied, putting his arm around her. 'I thought you had fallen asleep, precious,' he added in a lower voice. 'Thank you,' he replied, relieved and a little annoyed at John's chuckling. _Was he laughing at him?_ 'Hm, plenty of time on your hands. You won't get bored there if you've got the week off. What is your point?' he asked, slight panic in his voice. 'Please don't tell me you want me to decorate the flat.’

‘Oh yes. We're going to finish decorating the tree, add more lights around here, put some garland around the stair rail because Mrs Hudson wants it and I won't have her and her bad hip trying to do it by herself. Besides she'll be too busy baking Christmas sweets to do much decorating.’

'Can I propose an alternative? I'll get my violin and play merry songs, compose a couple and wear a ridiculous hat with an even more ridiculous jumper. You do agree that I motivate you with merry songs when you decorate? I'll help a bit of course... To put things that need to be placed _high_. Of course _you_ would need help for _these_.’

John smiled over at them. There was no doubt they were where they needed to be. While some people might think the idea of Sherlock the babysitter and Sherlock the second father strange, he couldn't imagine not being here. Rosie and Sherlock were a match made in heaven.  They both completely adored each other. ‘And I agree that pleasant music will make the decorating go faster. You and Rosie can help put the high up things on the tree and around the flat. Probably better than me standing on a chair trying to reach. I know Mrs. Hudson has a pile of things we can hang up.’ Maybe mistletoe. A sprig over the entry to the kitchen so there would be an excuse to kiss Sherlock at any given opportunity.

'Mrs Hudson always has a lot of things. _Especially_ for Christmas. Do I need to remind you of the antlers?’ He was reminiscing a time where John lived with him and despite having a girlfriend had ended up spending Christmas night with him. He had not had a happy Christmas with John since. Until the upcoming one. Despite everything that was planned, Christmas dinner at his parents' with Mycroft and Greg, social interactions, being nicer than he would normally be with acquaintances - he always was with Rosie and John - this Christmas appeared to be promising.

John's... admission (although to a third party) was paramount to his feeling optimistic about this particular Christmas. The idea of seeing his relationship with John change thrilled him. It terrified him as well (what-if scenarios were legion in his overactive brain).

As a rule, he was not in favour of change - would their relationship change all that much, however? Some... aspects might. Would. For the most part, however, it would stay the same. He was eager to see where this path would lead them, and how.

‘Aw but you looked so cute in those antlers!’ John giggled settling a bit more into his chair so he could nudge Sherlock's leg with his foot. ‘Sherlock the grumpy reindeer.’ He half sang, grinning at him.  Of course he was more than a bit mad, moving back in here with Rosie, and soon adding a puppy to the mix, but nowhere else had felt like home. From the minute he'd met up with Sherlock at the front steps and been welcomed by a smiling Mrs. Hudson nothing and nowhere had felt like home.

            After a few months of struggling to make things work at the 'new' flat, which had really been Mary's in the first place, he'd realised it was never going to work. He'd packed up their things and come back without calling, without asking. He wouldn't have blamed them for saying no. Instead they welcomed him and Rosie back like he'd never been gone at all. He'd spent years burying his feelings for Sherlock. And maybe now it was time to stop denying, stop rationalizing and admit things.

He'd also called in a few favours, probably a lifetime worth, from Mycroft and had him push through paperwork to have Sherlock made Rosie's guardian and have Mary's name taken off the birth certificate and his put on. There were even adoption papers if things were going right. And he hoped they would.

Right now his little bee was curled up in Sherlock's lap sound asleep despite the biscuits and hot chocolate and everything was right with the world for once.

'I think that the word you're looking for is 'ridiculous', John,' he said softly, caressing the hair of the toddler fast asleep next to him. 'Yes,' he said seemingly à propos of nothing. But everything he said had a reason. So what was his reason for this definite 'yes'?

‘Nope. Cute was the word I was looking for and I'm sticking with it. Not going to change it. You looked cute. I think she got those hats with the elf ears attached to them this year. I know she'd love to have a picture of all of us wearing them in front of the tree and send to her sister. Apparently the stories she tells about us are just too incredible to be believed.’

Taking a picture of Sherlock and Rosie with his phone he smiled setting it to the background. ‘Perfect... Look at you... Both of you... You know, I don't think I've ever seen you happier than when you're with Rosie.’ _Yes? Yes to what?_ It wasn't possible that Sherlock had deduced what John had spent weeks so carefully planning so he _wouldn’t_ deduce it.

Wrinkles and lines of worry had appeared on John's facial features. Sherlock sensed panic bubbling up beneath the surface. 'There's no need to look so alarmed, John. I know you might say it is a bit not good but... when we first started to share the flat and you had nightmares, I soothed you with music. No matter how sure I was of what I played, I never was certain that the effects would prove helping.' He stopped to meet John's gaze. He had somewhat relaxed, his worry over something else entirely _what?_ replaced by fear of revelation of the bit-not-good things Sherlock had been doing. Sherlock took in a large breath. 'Well, I played. In the living room. Walls are thin, so are ceilings. You would hear me. When I heard you stop thrashing in your bed and a reasonable time after I'd finished playing, I'd ... I'd go up to your room. Check that you'd fallen asleep and that you were properly resting,' he admitted, avoiding John's gaze.'I was thinking that 'yes', Rosie does look like you when fast asleep like that. Resting. At peace.’

John smiled, softly nodding. ‘I know. And I appreciate it. A lot. Sometimes I'd wake up enough to hear it, sometimes I'd wake up enough to know you were there checking on me. Everything you did helped. And it's helped again. Part of why Rosie and I moved back was the nightmares. I wasn't sleeping much at all. Didn't want the nightmares again. Being back here has helped. A lot. Even when you don't play. This place has just always been safe. Ella highly approves.’ He smiled slightly. ‘She's helped with the guilt. You help too. And I couldn't ask for Rosie to grow up in a better place. A place where she's loved and is safe and happy.’

Cheeks flushing a bit he smiled softly. ‘Is it terrible of me to be glad she looks much more like me, well Harry, really, than Mary? I've never seen much of Mary in her. A bit in the way she looks at me sometimes, but not often. And I couldn't be happier that you two get along so well. I know you'd do anything for her because you'd do anything for me. She loves you, Sherlock.’

Sherlock was taken aback by John's statement. He _helped_? John didn't _mind_?

Taking into account the flush in John's cheeks, Sherlock deduced that John's words had more importance than what he suggested. 'Rosie _loves_ me? She feels safe and happy? What about you, John?' he inquired, sincerely. He had deduced that there was more to it than meet the eye in John's words - but what, precisely, he couldn't infer. Not enough data.

John smiled. ‘I'm her Da. Of course she feels safe and loved. I've showered her with love and affection from the minute I first held her. You, Sherlock Holmes, also have a big part in making her feel safe and loved and happy. Don't think I haven't noticed when she's unsure about something she'll look to _both of us_ to make sure it's ok. As far as she's concerned you've hung the moon. And I couldn't be happier. I couldn't pick a better role model. You're brilliant, caring, funny. She could do a lot worse than look up to someone like you. Someone like Mary.’ He shrugged slightly. ‘You're everything Mary wasn't. You've sacrificed yourself for the people you care about, more than once. I never have to worry about her when I leave for work. I know she's safe here. That you would do anything to keep her safe. You're shaping up to be one hell of a good father, Sherlock Holmes.’ He smiled over at him.

Sherlock was speechless. And proud that John would bestow such high praise onto him. His own cheeks turned pink. He felt it, and tried to downplay his reaction. With any luck, John wouldn't notice.

'Well of course you don't have to worry when you leave for work, John. As you delicately pointed out earlier, I would do anything for you. She is a part of you. Ergo I'll do anything for her, too. There's no reason to give a bigger importance to it’

John grinned playfully nudging Sherlock's foot with his own. ‘Well that and she's had you wrapped completely around her little finger since the moment you two laid eyes on each other. She has that ability to get people do whatever she wants them to. I know I'm going to have to have a long talk with her about that when she's a bit older,’ he chuckled. ‘Give her the Spider Man talk. With great power comes great responsibility. Smart, brilliant, pretty. The boys won't know what hit them. Especially when she starts deducing them - and I know she will because I know you'll teach her how to do it.’

Sherlock smiled. 'You of all people should be inclusive, John. Neither boys nor girls will know what hit them. You're quite right, though. I will teach her how to use her senses to deduce everything in her environment. The Spider Man talk?' he added, confused. 'Pop culture reference I don't get, is it?’

John shrugged. ‘Boys, girls, aliens, whatever or whoever she wants to date is all fine with me. So long as she's happy and they treat her well. She's going to be impossible and amazing.’ Chuckling he nodded. ‘Yeah. Spider Man. Teenager gets bitten by a radioactive spider and develops spider powers like the ability to stick to walls and jump long distances and he makes artificial webbing and swing all across New York. His uncle gives him this talk about how when you have great power it comes with a lot of responsibility to do the right thing.’

Sherlock raised an eyebrow. 'Scientifically impossible. Nothing in science is that... Clumsy. But then I suppose that's not really the point in that Spider Man thing,' he added as he saw the look on John's face. 'Deducing is not a “power” in the way you assume it is, but I see your point. I'm certain it will be easier for her than I to do the right thing.’

‘No, that's not really the point,’ he giggled. ‘The point is that there's this kid who can't even drive yet with these super powers and how to manage that and finish school and not be a selfish self-centred prick like most teenagers are. We should do a whole superhero movie marathon. Spider Man was interesting, but my favourite was always Doctor Strange. You kind of remind me of him a bit.’

'I know I am going to regret this but how do I remind you of a super hero? I told you before, John. Heroes don't exist and if they did I wouldn't be one of them.’

John chuckled. ‘You are though, Sherlock. You've saved me more times than I can count and you're certainly a hero in Rosie's eyes. You're loyal, selfless, self sacrificing, you go out of your way to help people who really need help, you fight the forces of evil, you have a trusty sidekick, an eccentric landlady who knows even though you may be a superhero that she is _not_ your housekeeper. You're a bit Bruce Wayne slash Batman if you stop to think about it.’

Sherlock was about to wave John's comment away when he really registered his words. 'You are not my sidekick, John. You should know that,' he added in a softer tone. 'Isn't time we put Rosie properly in bed?' he said, indicating the sleeping toddler still wrapped up against him. 'You would usually have insisted to put her in a proper bed by now,' he explained.

He smiled softly with a half shrug. ‘I know. A matter of phrasing, that's all. I don't mind being the sidekick. Never have. They're pretty damn important. Someone has to watch the hero's back while he's fighting the bad guys. And I'd insist she be in bed by now if she was still awake. She's been tucked in against you for the better part of an hour. As long as she's asleep I'm not too picky about where she sleeps. Learned that particular idea living with you.’ He teased gently. ‘She's very happy where she is and I don't want to disturb her until I have to.’

Sherlock threw John a half-hearted glare at his teasing (more of an eighth-hearted glare, really). 'And if I move it will disturb her. Make me a cup of tea, John,' he said matter of factly. 'I'm thirsty,' he explained. 'Please,' he added as an afterthought.

Chuckling he rolled his eyes. ‘Set myself up for that and walked right into it, didn't I. Good thing I was thinking of making myself another cuppa. And chances are you'd ask me to make the tea even if Rosie wasn't cuddled up to you. At least you're saying please now.’ Getting up he stretched wincing a bit at the ache in his shoulder that cold weather always brought on. Rolling it he rubbed at the thick banks of scar tissue that went up into his neck. He really should take something for it. Maybe half a muscle relaxer to take the edge off and let him get some sleep.

Bringing Sherlock his tea he set it on the table next to him. Smiling he tucked Rosie in a bit more resting his hand on Sherlock's shoulder. ‘Always makes my heart happy to see my two favourite people together.’

'John. As much as I... Appreciate the sentiment,' he started, "and return it" was implicit given his soft loving tone, 'I'm not quite sure how to respond to that.’

John smiled softly taking a sip of his tea. ‘You're the genius consulting detective who can deduce everyone and everything. I'm giving you free rein, this one time, to deduce anything and everything about me. About me, about Rosie, about how I feel about you, everything.’

Sherlock's brain halted for a second. John was giving him free reign. To deduce _him_. He was daunted in the face of it. Of wrongly deducing something. But then his eyes went up to meet John's and his warm, encouraging smile. He was reminded of the very first taxi ride they had shared when Sherlock had explained his deductions about him and John's reaction: 'Amazing', and the praising had not stopped there. On a fairly regular basis John had praised him for his deductions, in every possible variant available to the English language. Until he fell, and Mary came.

But he had not been short of compliments tonight - nor had he been for some time, although not quite as profusely as he'd been tonight. Surely that meant something. Sherlock started deducing - in his head. His eyes flickered rapidly, catching clues and reminiscing past interactions.

Two minutes had passed and still he had not uttered a word.

 

John simply sat and sipped his tea often looking back to Sherlock with a soft encouraging smile. He'd meant it. He'd often asked Sherlock not to deduce him to stay out of his head and personal thoughts but maybe it was time to let that rule go. Or at least relax it a little. Especially now, especially tonight. He'd wait it out and let Sherlock put all the pieces together.

 

'John you may not be aware of it - or might not have been, in the beginning, which is much more likely - but I am not always... I don't always have a lot of self-confidence. Which is why I was so... Astounded and pleasantly perplexed at your initial reactions to my deducing abilities - which are more due to training one's mind to be efficient rather than having some sort of super-brain. Although it does help. Since you're still here I assume you still would bestow these kinds of reactions on me. There was a time when - you can't imagine how sorry I am about this - I thought I would never hear any such positive reactions from you. I had... Died... So to speak. And you had Mary. And not long after you had Rosie. Mary had lied to you much more often than I ever did and you didn't see it and I did not help you to see her for what she was - I have let you down... But you're still here, with Rosie, your child, your daughter, the apple of your eye, the most precious treasure in your life and I couldn't... I'm still wondering whether I'm not dreaming to be... Allowed here, with you. The fact that you did come back to Baker Street - home, John, you called it _home_ \- so quickly after... All this happened, with your little girl, that you never threatened to leave, that you do... Give me compliments from time to time... That you would entrust your daughter's safety to me... All this makes me feel... Unworthy. Because I am still the same rude, ignorant and all around obnoxious arsehole that you've met 7, almost 8 years ago in a little more than a month. But if you do deem me worthy of all this, John, me who's not done so many good things in my life but piled up a rather long list of frankly bad actions - I can only deduce that you, John Watson, deem me worthy enough to be in your life and I would even go as far as to say that you... Might... Harbour romantic feelings towards me. 'Living with your daughter with me makes it easier for you to come to grips with it - and for me as well, evidently.  Your plan to inhabit 221c in a few years bears witness to how little you want to leave me and the place you call home because your child will have grown and need privacy, not a shared bedroom with her father.

You evidently care about me, although how deeply is still unclear to me, since you refused that I give up my room for you despite it being the most logical step to take when you broached the subject of eventually moving - need I remind you that sleep does not have the same importance to me than it has to you? As I just said these words I can clearly see the flush in your neck and cheeks and your pupils dilating. Pointing it out only makes you clear your throat as you are... Uncomfortable with the subject, and you are currently licking your lips in a vain attempt to give yourself a countenance as you were when we first went to dinner at Angelo's. From that last bit of information, I deduce that you most probably want to have a romantic as well as a physical relationship with me. Did I miss anything?' he asked after a bit, flushed cheeks, heart pounding in his chest _what if I were wrong?_ , awaiting John's reaction.

Leaning over John chuckled softly kissing him softly, just a feather light brush of lips. ‘Not a thing you brilliant bloody mad man.  And you didn't tell me anything about Mary because you thought I was happy. I was trying to be. And I admit I was a bit pissed off at you and it was a bit of revenge. Clumsy and terrible on my part. But time after time you stood up for me and went out of your way to help me. You, the most brilliant person I've ever met call me your conductor of light. A lens for focusing your brilliance. You're my best friend. I know I've told you that and I meant it then and I mean it now. And what better person to trust my heart, and Rosie's with than my best friend. And the person I know would never hurt or betray us. Never. Doesn't hurt that you're bloody gorgeous either...’ He smiled a bit shyly. ‘We'll work all this out. We've got time.’

Sherlock received a light jolt of electricity as John's lips brushed his. It was metaphorical electricity, of course. He had no idea where they were going, but he would gladly let John decide of a course to follow. He was the one who had experiences in having relationships while Sherlock had mostly been married to his work. He found that he had enjoyed this light brush of lips rather a lot. His cheeks were slightly hot _am I blushing?_ and his heart beat stronger and quicker. It was not hammering in his chest, but the reactions elicited by such a simple act from John were...interesting, to say the least. 'Bloody gorgeous?' he asked. His cheeks were definitely hot.

Gently running a hand through Sherlock's curls he nodded with a soft slightly goofy smile. ‘Yeah. Bloody gorgeous. That was my first thought when we met. Who the hell is he and how is he so impossibly gorgeous? I couldn't believe that someone like you was actually considering letting someone like me move in straight away. When you were in danger from the cabbie, I didn't even think about it. I knew I had to save you. You'd already saved me so it was the very least I could do. That and I had a feeling that if anyone was going to kill you, it'd probably be me because you drove me completely mad,’ he teased thumb gently stroking over Sherlock's cheek.

A cloud passed over Sherlock's eyes. He wasn't going to say this out loud. Didn't want to make John feel bad, irate him and ruin the interesting moment that was happening.

He couldn't help but smiling though, even if his smile didn't quite reach his eyes and leaned into the gentle touch of John's hand. 'The feeling was mutual, I assure you. How could someone like you be possibly willing to spend any time at all with me, even less share a flat with me?’

Smiling John stroked his cheek gently. ‘Because you were the most interesting, fascinating, intelligent, insane, funny, kind, generous person I had ever met. That's what. Well, part of it. That and like I said, bloody gorgeous. You gave me a purpose again. A reason to get up every day. You “cured” my limp by telling me what I already knew and then making me forget all about my cane. It was the most insane night of my life and I knew I wouldn't want things any other way.’

Sherlock's eyes were locked onto John's. His heart was caught in his chest and there was a lump in his throat. He, usually so eloquent, could only utter a word. 'Likewise,' he choked. 'Likewise, John.’ _No no no dark thoughts go away I don't need you don't ruin it, don't make me ruin it_ he thought to himself as memories of John marrying, leaving him, attacking him assaulted him. _John said it was petty revenge._

John cupped his cheek softly running his thumb over the sharp line of his cheekbone. ‘And I will always be sorry for everything I did that hurt you. Always. And I'm never going to stop trying to make it all up to you. As horrible as it all was, and it was horrible, at least we've got Rosie. So, some good came out of it.  You two are the best things that have ever happened to me.’ He smiled softly leaning down to kiss him gently letting his lips linger a bit longer this time with just a hint of pressure.

Sherlock closed his eyes, his heart still constricted although John's soothing words and tender... gesture played a large role in it. He brought his arms around John to embrace him, unwilling to break the beautiful moment. He brought the both of them closer, in an attempt to tell John that he returned the sentiment, of course he did. He pressed his own lips to John's, accepting the demonstration of affection.

Half falling in the chair John giggled breathlessly, glad Rosie was safely tucked on the other side of Sherlock. ‘Well then…’ He smiled up at Sherlock. ‘I guess that sort of makes us official. Officially what, I don't know...’ Giggling he nuzzled along Sherlock's ever so slightly scruffy jaw. ‘I do know that I am officially in love with you. Have been since the minute we met. Just wasn't ready to admit it to myself. Now, now all I want is to have a future here in the place that's been most a home for me in a long time with you and Rosie. Our Rosie.’

Sherlock lost the ability to speak for a second. 'Of course, you have a future here, with me, John. You both do. Of course. It's not felt like a home here without you,' he admitted in a soft, pained voice. 'But you... Thank you, John. _Our_ Rosie...? What are you implying?' he asked after a short silence in a suspicious tone. 'She already calls me Papa and you said you agreed with that, not later than this very evening. There has to be something you are not telling me.’

John smiled resting his head against Sherlock's shoulder as he looked over at Rosie who was the very picture of an angel cuddled up with him. ‘You're the genius detective. Deduce it out,’ he teased Sherlock gently. ‘I think, at least I really hope you will. It's taken quite a bit of work and I'll owe Mycroft favours for the next hundred years but I know it's right and it'll all be worth it. I know it will. I know it won't fix everything and of course we'll still have our problems from time to time but it's important to me.’

Sherlock raised an eyebrow. 'You don't want to keep that bit of information secret then. You wouldn't give me clues,' he declared with a glimmer in his eye, already deducing the essence of that secret. 'If it's important to you... How could I refuse?' he asked.

John smiled. ‘Well if you figure it out, you figure it out. It's been pretty damn hard to keep it a secret. And like I said, I'm going to owe your brother for a very long time but it's more than worth it.’ Gently stroking the fringe off Sherlock's forehead he smiled softly. ‘Another reason I love you. You're so loyal to the people you love and care about. It's why I never bought the whole 'high functioning sociopath' bit. I'd seen you be so kind and loving with Mrs. Hudson even when you two are snipping at each other. And the way you calmly handle Rosie's occasional tantrums when she's overdue for a nap or doesn't want to go to bed. You're amazing.’

'Well... I happen to know the feeling she's having. Lack of sleep makes people irritable. She's no different - yet. In time she'll learn to overcome such minimal ailments.  I'll help her through that, if you'd accept. 'John... All these... good things you're saying to me - and one in particular... Please don't,' he asked in a small voice. 'I share the sentiment, John, of course I do,' he added swiftly when he saw John's warm features crumble into perplexity. 'It's er,’ Sherlock was, for once, the one to clear his throat in embarrassment. 'Talking about this is not my area. I'm sorry.’

Patting his knee gently he nodded. ‘You don't ever have to say it back. I know you feel it and that's more than enough. You feel it. That's what counts. I know it, Rosie knows it, everyone who knows you knows how fiercely and deeply you care about people. There may not be that many of us but I'm damn lucky to be one of them.’

'John, I - Can you take Rosie? She's stirring anyway and about to wake soon.’

Picking her up carefully he held her close pressing a kiss to her soft golden curls. ‘Shhhh... I've got you sweetheart. Go back to sleep. Just going to tuck you in your cot.’ Getting up slowly he smiled at Sherlock. ‘I'll just get her settled and be back in just a minute.’ Pressing a kiss to the top of Sherlock's head he carried Rosie upstairs and tucked her in. ‘You and Sherlock. Best things to ever happen to me. And each other.’


	3. Two Become One

As John left the room, Sherlock got up to retrieve his violin from its case. He took it out and settled it beneath his chin, picking the chords he tuned the instrument absent-mindedly and started to play a soft, slow melody of loneliness. He increased the rhythm he applied to the movements of the bow. The piece he had been writing in secret had become more vigorous with a warmer tone. The notes ran after each other, not quite in total harmony, the images warmer, the sounds becoming louder and louder until it suddenly stopped. The tone of the piece changed again and became a lament, harsh and painful, the rhythm slow again. Then the pace increased, the notes were out of sync, a flurry of sounds. Draped in a dressing gown, swaying with his violin, his back to the stairs which John had taken, Sherlock had closed his eyes and immersed himself in the music completely. He had been trying to find how to bridge the next part in his piece - John's words had opened a door. The music had taken on a taint of tamed sadness, an echo to the first melody but its main rhythm and general tone echoed the second movement of the piece - fast, but happy. The notes were not running after each other anymore, but side by side, in almost complete harmony. Some of its links were smooth and slow, others faster, but always ended on an important note. Sherlock repeated the movement time and again, trying each time to make it better.

John leant in the doorway watching and listening. It was sometimes hard to put together what Sherlock was feeling when he played. At least John knew enough to pick up on some things. Listening to and watching Sherlock play never ceased to amaze him. Smiling he shook his head. ‘You and me against the rest of the world. Always.’

Sherlock stopped. He had not taken note of John. Only his voice had been able to pierce through the concentration he had been putting into playing. 'Yes, that's... The general idea, John,’ he replied. '... Always?’ he asked softly, tentatively.

‘Always.’ He nodded firmly. ‘I promise. Rosie and I aren't leaving. Ever. This is home. It'll be the home she remembers. Maybe a vague impression of the other place, but Baker Street will always mean home and family to her. Just like it does me. Just like it does you.’ Smiling softly he nodded toward the violin. ‘Always love when you're working on a new composition.’

Sherlock blushed faintly. 'I... Didn't really mean for you to hear it. Yet. It's not finished,' he confessed. 'John, may I ask? What can you understand from... This?' he asked showing his violin, genuinely curious. Would music become a way for him to express his feelings and emotions to John as well?

John chewed his lip deep in thought. ‘I think it's about you. About us. The ups and downs we've had since we met and then there at the end when things were flowing so well, that's us now. Together. The way we're supposed to be. Have to admit I'm not the best at “what does this music mean” but when it's you playing, it isn't as difficult.’

'John! This is perfect!' Sherlock exclaimed. 'I am far from being the most... Comfortable at speaking about... Sentiment and such, but I can easily do that by playing. I know to you it's not as... precise as articulate words, but you've just said it's not that difficult. Maybe I can... Use a musical medium to... Communicate about... Feelings? Couples are supposed to communicate, aren't they?’

Smiling John nodded. ‘Yeah. They're supposed to. Doesn't always mean they do, but they're supposed to, yeah. And I'm not the best talking about what I'm feeling either. Ask Ella.’ Snorting a laugh he smiled. ‘But, I promise to try and tell you what I'm feeling and to try and understand what you're feeling when you tell me through music.’

Sherlock smiled. 'It seems settled, then. Christmas. Any... Particular wish?’

‘Well I already have everything I could possibly want right here. Not sure there's a Christmas song for that." He chuckled softly. "It's been a long time since I felt like I've got everything I could possibly want. A very long time.’

Sherlock bowed his head. 'I'm glad that you think you've already got everything you want. _Here_ ,' he added still disbelieving. 'I myself have never been under the assumption that I could ever want something or someone. Needing it, yes, sometimes,' he confessed. 'A Christmas song for that... I could not possibly tell you. Haven't the faintest. As you know, I'm not very... Well versed in common popular culture.’

‘Well then why don't you just play something you like. Maybe something a bit fun and upbeat in light of everything that we've gotten sorted out tonight. I'd like that very much. Doesn't have to be Christmas. Just whatever comes to mind. It doesn't matter what you play. I just love hearing and watching you.’

'My pleasure,' Sherlock said, bowing slightly. He looked John in the eye as he put once again the violin under his chin. 'Us, then,' he declared, a happy smile dancing on his lips. He started playing. Sherlock's fingers danced on the chords, the melody was fast and light, the tone gay and happy with a few shriller accents. He was smiling all the while he was playing, his eyes never leaving John's who had sat down in his chair.

John smiled up at him. ‘That's never going to cease to amaze me. You've played parts of that before. It's a little different now. Feels more complete. You are a wonder...’

'Of course I've played parts of that before, John,' Sherlock replied softly. 'You asked me to play "us". You've been influencing my... composing for a while, now, you know. More complete... I suppose you could say that, yes. "us", in regards to what happened tonight...' he added in an intimate whisper, piercing John's eyes and soul with his.

‘You're a bloody menace with that jaguar trapped in a cello voice of yours...’ He blinked a few times, shaking his head to clear it. ‘Think I've got a thing for the sound of your voice... I'm flattered I influence you composing. I've never been that much of an inspiration for anyone else. Not like there are songs and poems out there about me.’ He grinned. ‘Well, a few but they're greatly exaggerated.’

'It's not only my composing you've influenced, John,' Sherlock corrected. 'Mh, leave it to me to send the current "songs and poems" about you into the realm of oblivion,' Sherlock declared, his voice filled with jealousy. 'Mine will be infinitely better.’

‘Of course they'll be better because they won’t be an attempt at a dirty limerick,’ he snorted. ‘Yours will be so much better and much more meaningful. I told most of the rest to shove it whenever they started in. And I'm much less likely to say that to you,’ smiling up at him he gave a slight shrug.

'"Dirty limerick...?" Ah, yes. "Three Continents Watson",' Sherlock replied somewhat resentful of those who had dared try seduce John. 'What if I were to write one for you, sometime? Would you tell me to "shove it", as you so delicately put it?' Sherlock asked in a voice attempting to conceal the worry he was feeling - against reason, he was aware of it. 'Or would you use that colourful expression another way?’

Chuckling John shook his head. ‘No. I wouldn't. Not under those circumstances. I'd say something altogether nice and appreciate what clever thing you'd come up with. No I'd use it when you're being an arse. A real one.’

'What's funny?' Sherlock asked, a bit confused.

‘Just you. And I promise to mind myself and not say anything to you. And you're funny. Always have been. And charming. And bloody gorgeous. I mean, anyone can see that. I'd compliment you and your poetry.’

Carefully putting his violin in its case on his desk, Sherlock came closer to John, arms crossed, expression showing nothing but perplexity. 'You are being confusing. I don't... What do you mean, “mind yourself” and “not say anything to me”? Weren't we talking about communicating?’

He nodded. ‘Sometimes I say things I regret later, especially when I'm angry. I don't mean them and I regret them later. My temper just gets the better of me. I promise to try not to say them to you and if I do, know that it's not personal and I don't mean it and I will be very sorry later.’

These words made a particularly bad memory resurface in Sherlock's mind.  He unconsciously took two steps back and crossed his arms tighter around himself. He nodded once. 'Yes. I know.' he bit back his tongue, fairly certain that mentioning past occurrences of John losing his temper would not be considered... Good. 'I'll try as much as I can not to be an arse. I promise you I will.’

John flinched reaching out to him. ‘Sherlock... I'd never do that again. Never. I'd never raise a hand to you in anger again.’ He touched his arm gently. ‘If it ever gets to that point I will walk away for as long as I need to before my temper gets the better of me so I don't hurt you. I don't know what happened.’ He shrugged looking at the floor. ‘I wasn't sleeping, I was drinking too. A lot. I don't know how I managed to keep Rosie going... And you don't need to worry about it. I don't want you to change. I fell in love with you the way you were and are. Never change.’

Sherlock loosened his arms. 'I told you, it's - it's fine. Why would I still... ? What matters is - you're here,’ Sherlock said to his folded arms.

‘It's not fine.’ He murmured softly rubbing his thumb over Sherlock's arm gently. ‘It will never be fine. And I'm not going anywhere. Neither is Rosie. We're where we belong. Here with you. I'm never going to stop trying to make this up to you. Never.’

Sherlock looked up. 'That's a very long time,' he said in an attempt to lighten the mood. 'What if you got bored?' he asked, trying to tease John and appease the dark memories that had been summoned - by his reaction. John had not evoked the... incident, it was him and him alone who had thought of that. Muscle memory or something.

John chuckled softly slowly and gently raising his hand to rest it against Sherlock's cheek. ‘You are the least boring, most interesting person I have ever met. That is never going to change. You're even interesting when you're in your mind palace. I'm not the only one that thinks so. Rosie likes watching you too. I completely expect her to start copying you any time now.’

Sherlock let out a chuckle of his own. '”Consulting detective and family. The only ones in the world.” If she doesn't start copying me soon, I'll teach her. Just as I'll teach her how to deduce her surroundings in a few months, when her speech becomes a little bit more articulate.’

‘”Consulting detective and family”. Has a nice ring to it. I'm going to take a wild guess that Anderson is the one you'll start her with.’ He snickered. ‘I completely expect to come home some afternoon and find her laying on your chest trying to do the whole Mind Palace thing just like you do. She wants to be just like you. I'll be surprised if she decides she wants dark hair like yours.’

'If that's the case I'll tell her that Sherlock - apart from not, actually, being a girl's name,' he said rolling his eyes, 'means fair-haired. Which I'm not.’

Giggling he stroked his cheek gently. ‘Yeah, well, your parents have a way with names. I didn't much care for Rosie's name full name. Still don't. But Rosie seems to suit her very well. I'm sure for career day at school she'll want to be a detective. A consulting detective. No normal career like a doctor or anything. Nope. Consulting detective. And I'll be incredibly proud of her choice.’

Sherlock took John's hand and lightly pressed his lips against it. 'And so will I. Mostly because she wouldn't choose this path if  you and I hadn't met.’

‘And she's going to be amazing. No matter what she decides to be. She'll have all the love and support any kid could possibly need. She'll have a wonderful home life with people that love each other and her. That's what's really important. More than almost anything else. We may not always get along, but it won’t change how much we care about each other.’

'Quite right, John,' Sherlock replied, searching his eyes. The air had gone from dark and menacing to soft and calm to loaded with heat and electricity, and he had no idea how that had happened - or if it were his brain which was getting ahead of itself. He squeezed John's hand to check that he was in the real world and not somewhere in a strange dream.

Giving his hand a reassuring squeeze he smiled up at him. ‘Can't believe how lucky I am to be here with you and how lucky Rosie is to be here. She's going to be so spoiled and so smart. I wouldn't want to be raising her anywhere else with anyone else.’

'All the better, John. I am not about to let you leave. Certainly not when we've become... Whatever we are,' Sherlock replied in a smile, voice soft and firm as he took a step into John's personal space.

Licking his lip as he stared at Sherlock's lips John smiled slightly. ‘Well, I'm not much one for labels. Never was. Don't think I ever will be. I don't care what we call us. We're us.’ He shrugged slightly smiling up at him. ‘Always have been since we met, probably always will be. I always knew something was missing in my life. Never knew what that was until I handed you my phone. And then I saw you. Really saw you. For a moment you let me see you. The real you. And my heart said oh there you are. I've been looking for you.’

'That we are. "Us". Quite right,' Sherlock answered, his smile bright in the intimate haven of Baker Street. 'John, I can not begin to tell you how glad I am that you and I are an item. I had the time to think about it during my time of touring Europe, and it is obvious that something was also missing in mine. I had put blinds on my eyes and refused to face the truth, that Sherlock Holmes had... Feelings,' he admitted in a half voice.

John smiled softly cupping his cheek and kissing him gently. ‘Well now that we've stopped being complete idiots I guess we can get on with being a happy couple raising Rosie together. I think we're the last ones to figure all of this out.’ He laughed softly. ‘We really were idiots. I'm never going to stop loving you and trying to make up for all the hell I put you through. Whatever happens now, we'll have together.’

Sherlock thought for a split second. 'Hm, yes, John, everyone had deduced we were or would be a couple. Mrs Hudson was the first. Possibly a tie there with your friend Mike - had it not been for him, we might not have met. And his absence at your... Wedding was rather telling, I should think. That day was the day I came face to face with the reality and depth of my... Attachment to you. Timing has never been my strong suit. Nevertheless, we did... End up being where everyone and everything pointed us,' he said as he came closer to John, holding the hem of his hideous Christmas jumper. _Together, as a couple. Where we should always have been_. 'Where we always will,' he affirmed, bending slightly over John's face to delicately put a kiss on his lips.

John smiled softly cupping Sherlock's cheek and kissing him slowly putting just enough heat and longing to make it clear how he felt about his detective. ‘We're right where we should be. Right where we've always been meant to be. It was a long, winding road filled with holes and detours but we made it.’ Stroking his cheek he nodded. ‘Hearing you say those things. At my wedding. Well. Made me realize too late, or I thought too late, that you felt the same way about me that I'd felt about you for so long. Guess in the end it's all worked to make us appreciate each other more. I know it's made me care about you and appreciate you more than ever. Wake up every day wondering how the hell I got so lucky.’ Laughing softly he kissed Sherlock softly. ‘We should send Mike a fruit basket or something as a thank you for putting us in each other's path.’

Sherlock chuckled. 'A fruit basket. For Mike. Not very fit for the man. Give him a large basket filled with all types of food, including fruit, and a bottle of good... Cider. Yes, I think strong cider would be his drink of choice. Mrs Hudson already has the privilege to see us everyday and witness how happy we are together, I don't think she'd accept anything, anyway. Kissing in front of her as she brings something here would make her day, I suppose,' he added as an afterthought, mischief glittering in his eyes.

John snorted a giggle. ‘A fruit basket with some pastries from that cake shop you told me Mycroft is fond of and a nice bottle of sparkling cider with a picture of you, me, and Rosie. He'd love it.’ Smiling up at Sherlock he stroked his cheek lovingly. ‘And a kiss for Mrs Hudson. Nothing more. And maybe an investment in a good set of noise cancelling headphones or ear plugs... Nothing too over the top. We don't need her having a heart attack or stroke.’

Confusion was written on Sherlock's face. 'Noise cancelling....?' The penny dropped. 'Oh. Oh!' he softly exclaimed, cheeks turning a bright shade of red. 'Of course, we wouldn't...' he stammered. 'I, er, I'll go to my room now,' he said shyly, and a little afraid. 'I have to... To think,' he added, disentangling his fingers from John's.

John smiled softly gently catching his hand before his dear flustered detective could rush off. Pulling him back he kept his grip loose enough that Sherlock could easily pull away but just tight enough to get him to stay for a moment. Standing on tiptoe he kissed him softly a gently feather light brush of lips. ‘Everything and nothing and everything in between, Sherlock. I'm ok with it all. If kissing and cuddling is all you're comfortable with, that's more than ok. Whatever you want, whenever you want. We'll go at your pace, ok. No rush. No pressure. Just promise you'll talk to me, ok. Sometimes it's going to be uncomfortable and very possibly embarrassing but it's just me. Ok. No judgement. None. You don't have to decide now. I don't want this, us, to make you feel like you have to change. I love you just the way you are. Warts and all as my Grandad used to say to my Nan and promptly got the back of his hand smacked with whatever cooking utensil she had in her hand at the time. She'd blush like a schoolgirl and giggle.’ He smiled fondly. ‘They would have liked you.’

Sherlock looked at the floor for a second, ashamed of wanting to flee. 'Yes, I'll talk to you,' he told John. 'It's, well. I really need to think about that subject before... Before talking to you. For now... For now John I would like to go to bed. To think. With you, and a... Cuddle... If you're amenable. I still can't get my head around this new status of ours and your presence... Would help. Tremendously,' he added, voice low.

John nodded kissing his cheek gently. ‘There's nothing more I'd love than a good cuddle with you. Have to admit I've been jealous of Rosie and all the cuddles with you she gets,’ he teased gently. ‘Talk to me when you're ready. When you've got things a bit sorted out. I'm not in a rush. Take all the time you need. I'm going to go change, make sure Rosie's not kicked off her blankets and has her bee tucked in with her. Then I'll be down. Take the monitor in there with you so we'll hear her if she wakes up.’ Slowly running his hand through Sherlock's dark curls he nuzzled his cheek softly.

Making sure Rosie was tucked in snugly he kissed the top of her head. She was his world. Her and Sherlock. How the hell had he got so lucky to get a second chance at this. At all of this. Changing into pyjamas, an old worn t shirt that was soft with age and equally worn and soft tracksuit bottoms he grabbed his pillow and headed downstairs. Tapping lightly on Sherlock's door he waited.

 

            Sherlock was frantically pacing in his room. Sharing his bed for the first time in his life - he had not even done that with Mycroft as children. Maybe once or twice. When he had had a... Bad dream. Suffice it to say that he did not let it happen again. Since then he had learnt to control his dreams - was extremely daunting. He usually didn't sleep with clothes on, but he did have cotton lounge wear, so maybe the bottoms would do? And a t-shirt, obviously. He needed to find a t-shirt with long sleeves.

Mind racing at 1000 mph, he thought of everything he would have to put away. Even if he didn't use it, hadn’t since John had returned, the paraphernalia he had would probably not... Be met with kindness. He had only finished putting everything away in a box which he put the farthest away from view as possible (his drug addict past had made him loosen a few floorboards), and rearranged his bed, promptly settling in when he heard John softly knocking on the door. He was slightly shivering with a mixture of fear (sharing his bed when his body was vulnerable, even if his mind was still at work) and excitement (JOHN), but answered with as level a voice as he could 'Yes, John. Come in,' before disappearing under the blanket, trying to obtain some protection through it.

John smiled softly with a soft huff of laughter. ‘You cleaned. You didn't have to, you know. Long as there was a bit of space for me on the bed it would have been fine.’ He sat on the edge of the bed patting Sherlock's blanket covered knee lightly. ‘No need to be nervous, ok. It's just me. I'll be right here just sleeping. You have my word that I won't try anything. I'm knackered. I'll probably be asleep as soon as my head hits the pillow.’ He'd taken a quarter of a pain pill to ease the ache in his shoulder and help him sleep a bit. Hopefully he wouldn't have one of his nightmares and wake Sherlock or accidentally whack him.

Crawling in bed he left a good distance between them tossing a couple pillows in the gap. He smiled over at Sherlock putting the baby monitor on the bedside table. Kissing his cheek lightly he settled in getting as comfortable as possible. ‘Night Sherlock. Try and sleep, ok. A bit. For me.’

'Don't be ridiculous, John, you know I won't. And I've no idea what you mean by cleaning. Promise you'll still be there in the morning, even if I do sleep?’

Reaching over he squeezed his hand. ‘I promise. Only reason I won't be here is if her royal highness upstairs decides to be up early. I'll change her, feed her, and see if I can't convince her to come back to bed for a cuddle. Sometimes it works.’ He chuckled. ‘And even if you didn't clean, thanks for everything you've done. Try and sleep, ok. A bit. For me.’

Sherlock sighed contentedly and squeezed John's hand back, but he didn't let go of it. 'I only want to wake up with you. I'll try to sleep. I promise,' he said as he closed his eyes. 'Good night, John, d-' he said, mumbling the term of endearment that escaped him.

Grinning he leaned over to kiss him softly. ‘Good night, love. And I want to wake up with you too. I promise the only reason I won't be here is if Rosie decides to be up early. Then we'll just be in the kitchen or watching cartoons.’ Lightly sweeping the soft fringe of curls off Sherlock's forehead he smiled. ‘This is nice. Very nice. Sweet dreams.’

'If Rosie wakes up early, bring her with you. Don't stay away. If she doesn't want to cuddle... Well, we'll have tried.' He let out a small exhale. 'Yes, it is. I agree. I like it. I don't think we need pillows between us,' he added, taking them away and coming closer to John's warm body.

John smiled. ‘I'll bring her back to bed after breakfast. A sippy cup of warm milk might help her get back to sleep. I'll pull up some cartoons on my laptop to keep her entertained and maybe doze off a bit again myself if I'm lucky. She'll be thrilled to get to cuddle in your big bed with you.’

Wrapping an arm around Sherlock in a loose, comfortable embrace he nuzzled his cheek gently. "Mm...  if I'm too restless or seem like I might be having one of my dreams, wake me up. Don't want to accidentally hit you.’

'You won't. I'm sure of it,' Sherlock declared, settling in John's embrace, pushing his cheeks against his face. 'Besides, if it ever came to that, I'd be able to control you. I'm taller, I'll get on top of you more easily,' he mumbled.

John raised a brow slightly, deciding it was best to just keep his mouth shut and less than pure thoughts to himself. Smiling he hugged Sherlock close marvelling at the perfect way they fit together. ‘Mm... Chances are I'd wake up if it processed that it was you. You might be taller but I could still flip you over and pin you. But just knowing you're here will help a lot. I haven't been having the dreams nearly as often since Rosie and I came back. Of course I barely had them before I left. They got pretty bad for a while. Then a little better. Then much worse.’ He hugged Sherlock a bit closer. ‘The longer I'm here the better they've got.’

'I'm glad to hear that, John. Not that you'd pin me down. I seriously doubt that. I'm... Happy, John. I feel safe,' he added, sighing contentedly, squeezing John's strong forearms.

Nuzzling his curls he nodded. ‘You are safe, Sherlock. Long as I'm here nothing and no one will hurt you again. At least I'll try damn hard to keep it from happening. I promise. And I'm happy too. And happy that you're happy. It's what I've wanted for you for a long time. You deserve it, love. You deserve every good thing the world has to offer and I'm going to try and give you as many as I can." He pressed a kiss to the top of his head.

'Thank you, John. For being there. For wanting me, for needing me to part part of your life. For trusting me. For making me want to... Fight again. Feel valid. And so much more. I'm terrible with words. I'm sorry. What I mean to say is - John. You are my whole world. My universe. Thank you,' he concluded as he closed his eyes, relaxed and happy. 'Sleep well, my dear.’

John hummed softly stroking Sherlock's curls lovingly. ‘I think you're just fine with words. You don't ever need to try and find the exact right words. Just tell me what and how you're feeling and we'll be just fine. I promise. I'm glad I've made you feel that way. If I do something so that you're not feeling that way, tell me and we'll work it out. I promise.’ Humming softly he gently rubbed a hand up and down Sherlock's back. ‘Pretty nice having you here with me like this.’ It was rare he got to see Sherlock so relaxed and at ease. Maybe he could bribe him with cuddles to stay in bed a bit more. ‘Sweet dreams bee.’

Sherlock merely tightened his hold on John, allowing himself to feel and not think, contrary to what he’d told John moments before, and appreciate the moment. He felt his...partner slowly fall asleep behind him, his breathing slowing, his body jerking to check it wasn’t dying _stupid transport_. Sherlock’s brain stopped and marvelled at the wonder that the evening had been. He’d got the leggings Rosie absolutely wanted for Christmas, Lestrade more or less admitted something, John confessed the same with regard to him, Rosie called him Papa and John approved, was waiting for her to do, they cuddled, watched Beauty and the Beast with Rosie, talked about feelings and it was uncomfortable but John wonderful John made it easier, John told him to deduce, to read what he needed to - whatever he needed to. Then they kissed, and they were official - officially what was the question, but John solved it again. ‘Us,’ he’d said. Then they talked some more and thought of thanking Mike Stamford and Mrs Hudson, and John spoke about noise cancelling headphones or earplugs and it was...embarrassing because of what John was implying and Sherlock fled well, tried to, then he asked for John to join him in bed to cuddle because he knew that his presence would help but now his brain is racing like an engine, because the cuddles were nice, and John is warm against him and that was so relaxing but so stressful at the same time because he’d never really shared a bed, cuddling on the sofa was fine because he knew that it wouldn’t last for hours and hours, here in bed his body would be vulnerable if he slept even if he knew that John would never do anything bad to him - well, not that kind of bad. But it’s good, he feels safe in John’s arms and John told him he’d never let anything happen to him and the cuddling is good and the kissing is really nice and John is warm against him and wh - ? _Oh_. Sherlock breathed in deeply and exhaled loudly. In through the nose, out through the mouth. _Well. I suppose my body would not be averse to the idea that John was suggesting earlier._

John sleepily nuzzled his nose into Sherlock's silky soft curls. ‘I can hear the bloody hamster in your head running itself to death in its wheel. Try and shut your brain off for a bit, love. For me.’ Fumbling for a moment he grabbed his phone, pulling something up. ‘This sounds a bit odd. I'm sure to a musician like you it'll seem even stranger, but it works. Trust me. One of the best things Ella ever did for me. Just listen and try to relax ok.’ Years of training allowed John to be almost fully awake in moments and once satisfied that there was no real danger he could get back to sleep. Keeping the volume just loud enough to be heard he gently tightened his grip on Sherlock. Rubbing his arm softly he kissed the top of his head lightly listening to Rosie's soft snores over the monitor.

 _Try and shut my brain off...At the moment it’s not only my brain that needs turning off. Bugger. Not going to go away with John hugging me so tightly._ Sherlock tried to focus on the … sounds John had put up on his phone. Music was hardly appropriate. The range of different sounds would certainly help in most normal circumstances, not that particular one. The rhythm was ever so slow, and Sherlock knew that a slow rhythm like this one would be very useful to anyone trying to meditate or regain control of their body and just relax...He wriggled in between John’s arms, trying to create some distance between their two bodies.

John nuzzled his curls softly with a sleepy smile hand resting lightly on Sherlock's hip, thumb making little sweeps across the thin fabric. ‘This will go down as one of the best nights of my life y'know. Just being here, holding you, knowing we've got a start on figuring things out. Pretty amazing. Best Christmas I've had in a very, very long time.’ He mumbled softly kissing Sherlock's forehead softly. ‘Try not to focus on the music. Just let your thoughts drift wherever they go. I'm right here. You can talk to me if you want to, need to. About anything.’

‘It’s...I feel the same. Haven’t had such a wonderful night in...most likely ever. Although...A little...daunted…,’ he admitted shyly as he took John’s hand to remove it softly from his hip. ‘I’m trying to relax, I am, really, John. My… thoughts… are refusing to drift, they’re just… there, staring me in the face, insistent, begging me to pay attention to them. I’m - There’s -‘ Sherlock stammered. How embarrassing could it be? ‘A situation,’ he finished, lamely, hoping John would understand what he meant and maybe realise how… uncomfortable said situation was making him. He had no idea how to proceed to eliminate such a thing. He knew the mechanics of course and how tedious they were and barely ever indulged in them because the need didn’t arise often and when it did he managed to will it away quickly before it became too… distracting. As it was now. But giving in, especially with John here, when they had just started figuring out things out about themselves as an item...That was awkward. Sherlock wasn’t...the best example at being attuned to his body’s needs, nor was he necessarily interested. He had no idea how to proceed and hoped John would...help him. Light the way.

John cupped his cheek with gentle fingers. ‘It's ok, love. If you want I can give you some privacy for a few minutes, go check on Rosie, double check that all the doors are locked. I know Mrs. Hudson sometimes forgets to lock the door out to the back garden and the one up from 221C. Perfectly normal and natural given everything we've talked about and sorted out tonight. Just your brain sorting out everything.’ He paused licking his lips nervously. ‘Or... I can, could... stay and... Help...’ Help wasn't the right word but it was the best he was going to come up with right now. And there was no denying the idea of lending Sherlock a 'helping hand' was appealing and definitely something he'd considered more than once.

Sherlock’s mind halted, his heart skipped a beat and he missed a couple breaths. _Breathing’s boring anyway_. John was actually offering… He really hadn’t been...joking when he’d implied… twice… Sherlock’ cheeks flushed. He shifted uncomfortably. ‘Is there any way, can you think of any way I can… will this away…? No pillows between us but there’s a sword there. We’re not Tristan and Isolde, for Christ’s sake. There should not even be… I should not… I’m sorry. Please tell me you can think of a way to… I don’t want this… bothering me. Bothering us. When we should be… enjoying some quiet, relaxing time together. And I don’t want you to leave,’ he added as an afterthought. ‘Not even for a few minutes.’

John huffed a giggle. ‘God I love you. A sword. I meant it, Sherlock, I don't mind, wouldn't mind, would like to if you're comfortable and would let me... help you. However you're comfortable with.’

Sherlock heaved a small, resigned sigh. ‘As I thought… No way to will this away… And yes, a sword. Haven’t you read Tristan and Isolde?’ he asked, ever so slightly moving his head to look at John. ‘Impossible, romantic relationship, where the brave knight quite literally lies his sword between Isolde’s resting body and his so there can be no… temptation to succumb to what they used to call ‘sins of the flesh’?’ Sherlock was playing for time, trying to decide if he felt comfortable with taking up on John’s offer to help, all the while aware that John very well knew why he was talking about Tristan and Isolde and not answering his question.

John chuckled. ‘I might have accidentally forgotten to turn in a gorgeous illustrated stories of the round table book at one time. I know most of the stories backward and inside out. A sword wouldn't be much to move if a person really wanted to move it.’ He smiled down at him. ‘You take all the time you need to work thing out in your head, ok. I'll be right here.’ He promised giving Sherlock a gentle squeeze. ‘Whatever you decide, I'm going to understand. I promise.’

‘John, I must tell you that I am not..averse to your helping hand. Far from it, might I add,’ he continued in a shy, low tone, almost a whisper. I just… It’s… It would be… considered fast… Wouldn’t it?’ he asked timidly. ‘Maybe… it would help if you… that is, if you wouldn’t mind putting your hand… there,’ Sherlock said, stumbling on his words, unsure of how to phrase his thoughts. ‘Please?’

John smiled softly. ‘Sherlock, love, we've been heading for this since we met in the lab. Everyone else thinks we've been together for ages. Fast isn't exactly a thing here. And since when have you and I ever done anything in the “proper order”? I moved in the day after meeting you and I'd known you all of five minutes. And that night I killed a man for putting your life at risk. I say to hell with “fast” and “proper order” and do whatever the hell we feel like is right.’ Kissing him sweetly he smiled softly. ‘Tell you what, I'll sit up and you can lean back against me. I'll keep things slow and you can tell me what you like and what you don't like. We'll figure it out together.’

Sherlock felt himself blushing. He lowered his head, a shiver running down his spine at John’s suggestion. A long silence settled. It was not uncomfortable or awkward, it was just… there. It was the way Sherlock processed things. Matters of the flesh would not be treated any different. John’s analysis was sound, people had thought they had been a couple from the start. And they probably had been, aside from that particular part. John was right, they never had done anything in the ‘proper order’, this was for mundane people. And those mindful of society and traditions, which neither of them was. ‘John? This idea is excellent. But... Kiss me again,’ he asked, urgency in his voice.

Cupping his cheek gently John kissed him slowly pouring everything he felt for the amazing, brilliant man in his arms. ‘You realize I'm going to have a hell of a hard time not kissing you at every single opportunity now.’ He chuckled softly. ‘Always thought your lips looked incredibly kissable. Glad to know I was right.’ Softly running his hand through Sherlock's curls he smiled softly. ‘love you. I'm going to keep loving you no matter what.’

Melting into the touch, Sherlock pressed himself against John, overwhelmed by the feelings of reassurance, happiness, desire John had given him with that slow, tender kiss. He was extremely aware that he was poking into John’s lower abdomen. He locked his eyes onto John’s. ‘Help me?’ he asked, his voice turned deep and almost hoarse with need.

‘Always, love, always. Whatever you need. Within reason. I will _always_ help you,’ John promised firmly kissing him slowly with a gentle press against him to let Sherlock know he wasn't the only one struggling. ‘Sit up for me. Just for a minute.’

Arranging a few pillows against the headboard so he'd be more comfortable he shifted. ‘Come here, love. Just lean back against me. I'll hold you and take care of you. You just help me know what you like and what you need.’ Kissing along his neck and shoulder he moaned softly.

 


	4. Consulting Detective and Family.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm so sorry for the delay today! I just got back from my holidays (and don't fancy another one because people) there was a bit of traffic, the GPS signal got lost for a long time, realised there was a map in the car late... Please forgive me!   
> And enjoy the chapter!

John smiled sleepily blinking down at Sherlock who was half sprawled on top of him. Stroking his hair softly he gently eased out of bed hearing Rosie begin to stir. ‘I'll be right back, love. Promise. Going to go fetch Rosie. Go back to sleep.’ He wasn't sure how much Sherlock had heard but he'd made a promise.

Going upstairs he smiled picking Rosie up. ‘Good morning, princess. Let's get you changed and fed.’ Talking to her softly he got her changed and warmed up a bottle. ‘How about we take your bottle in with Papa?’ Rosie smiled. ‘Shlock! Yes!’ Chuckling he bounced her. ‘Yeah, I know.’ Settling back in bed he tucked Rosie between them. ‘Papa sleepin’.’ She patted Sherlock's cheek gently cuddling against him. John smiled. ‘Yeah. You go back to sleep too. Close your eyes and cuddle with Papa.’ Snuggling into Sherlock she kissed his cheek soon going back to sleep. John smiled at the two of them snapping a quick picture. If he was lucky he'd snatch a bit more sleep with them.

The slight disturbance in his surroundings had been enough to half wake Sherlock from his slumber - he had registered a smaller form cuddling against him, smelling of baby products, but there was one feature of interest that was missing. He heard a faint click which made a small smile appear on his lips. ’Jaaaaawn,’ the detective yawned. ‘Come back to bed,’ he demanded, mumbling. ‘Y’ ‘romisssed,’ he reminded him.

John smiled putting his phone back on to charge and crawling back in bed. Leaning over he kissed Sherlock softly and tucked the blanket around Rosie a bit more. "Just had to take a picture of my two favourite people. Hopefully she'll let us sleep a bit longer.”

Sherlock smiled as he felt the mattress dip when John crawled back into in. ‘Come ‘ere,’ he said still drowsy, arms open wide, inviting. ‘Lemme give my two favourite people a morning cuddle. Less all go back to sleeeep,’ he said closing his eyes as John settled against him.

John smiled softly. ‘You are bloody adorable when you're all sleepy.’ He nuzzled Sherlock's soft curls. ‘I love you.’ Kissing him softly he wrapped an arm around Sherlock. ‘She really wanted to come cuddle with you. Not that I blame her. This is my new favourite way to wake up. Both of you in my arms.’

'Jawn. Lang'age,' he admonished - although the rebuttal fell short because of the sleepy, drowsy state he was in.'Shhhhh, now. Qui't, love. Sleeeep,' he added, mumbling as he tightened his hold on Rosie and John - if the word 'tighten' could be used here.

Chuckling softly he smiled. ‘Adorable. The both of you. So lucky.’ Rosie sighed cuddling into Sherlock's arms asleep again almost instantly. Amazing how things could change so much and have it all feel incredibly right.

Sleeping for a bit longer John finally stirred blinking at his phone and checking the time. ‘Hate to break it to the both of you but we better get up and get moving if we're going to make the train to your parents. Either that or we endure the ride with Mycroft.’ He teased. Few things could motivate Sherlock like avoiding an extended amount of time with his brother.

As he heard John stating this, Sherlock’s eyes opened wide, alert. Had Rosie not been in their bed _their_ _bed_ , now he marvelled at the thought, he would have sprang out of it. He glowered at nothing in particular and bent on to Rosie. ‘My lady, it is time to wake up. You have to meet some very important people who love you very much.’ She snuggled deeper into Sherlock’s pillow she had taken during their nap. ‘I’ll come with you, and your Daddy as well. You’ll see your grandparents, and uncle Mycroft. Probably also uncle Greg. And you will get to wear your wonderful leggings, my dearest darling,’ he added. ‘There might even be something more to go with it, but I - I admit that I can’t be sure,’ he concluded, looking at John, silently asking if another present would be considered too much.

Shrugging John smiled, slowly becoming resigned  to the fact that Rosie was going to end up immensely spoiled. ‘At this point, what's one more present? I know if I object your Mum would just give me that look that says I'm so nice and not overly bright but she still likes me and Rosie would get her gift anyway. Just means I'll have to work extra hard to make sure she doesn't become a spoiled brat. I love that your parents love her and are so willing to do things for her. You mind watching her for a bit? Maybe getting her dressed? Thought I'd pop in the shower then try and get her to eat something when I'm out.’ Smiling he kissed Sherlock softly. ‘Best Christmas ever.’

‘I’m certain Boxing Day will be even better,’ Sherlock replied in a deep, suggestive voice. ‘Hm, you know, John… This year and maybe the one after that she won’t… remember much of being spoilt. Trust me, I know how memory works. If that’s all right, she could be spoilt now and maybe next year and then she’d have a more… suitable amount of presents? You wouldn’t have to work hard at preventing her from becoming a “spoilt brat”. She’ll never be a brat. Unless she does as her Papa does and doesn’t get out of bed to see her relatives for Christmas,’ he added, his tone stern as he spoke to her, disentangling her from the covers and the pillow she was clenching. She clearly was sulking at being taken away from the warm haven of her parents’ bed _was it their bed now?_ It would be the most logical conclusion. As John closed the door to the shower, Sherlock looked sweetly at the still sleepy toddler in his arms. ‘Now, your Highness. Let’s go and feed you. Ah, no, don’t you sulk. Eating is essential when you’re growing and you need to grow up to become a beautiful lady, a beautiful princess who’ll turn everyone’s head,’ he reprimanded softly. ‘I promise it’ll go fast. And then, we’re going to go get dressed. Trust your Papa to choose the most perfect clothes for you. No ugly jumper. What could have ever possessed your Daddy to buy you these, I’ve no idea,’ he added pensively as they left the room.

Yawning she snuggled against his chest rubbing her eyes sleepily. ‘Brekky? Twain?’ John had been telling her for some time that they'd be taking the train to see Papa's parents. She'd met them a few times when they'd come over but this would be the first time they'd all be spending several days together.

John finished his shower quickly. Someone had to keep them on schedule and it usually fell to him. Wrapped in a thick, warm robe he smiled at the two of them in the kitchen. ‘Jumpers are warm and practical. Not all of us are comfortable in high end, custom tailored, bespoke suits. Besides, Rosie loves my jumpers. Rosie, sweetie, be good and eat your breakfast. Sherlock, you too. If you don't eat, she won't eat.’

‘No, Rosie, no. _Train_. Not Twain,’ he corrected her. ‘But yes, you are going to see my parents. And Uncle Mycroft. And Uncle Greg, too, I suppose,’ he said as he gave her a bottle of warmish milk, and a banana. He had prepared a few toasts for her as well. Sherlock knew she was going to need strength, at least for the train ride to his parents’ where she’d proceed to eat her own weight. Twice. And Sherlock would forgive this Mycroftian behaviour because he knew that she’d needed much more energy than adults and that this would pass fast enough. If anything, neither John nor he would let it become a habit.

Hearing John’s comment he rolled his eyes. ‘Yes, sir,’ he answered, pointedly biting into another piece of toast. It had no butter or jam or anything on it, but it should suffice to make John happy. ‘I am not currently wearing a bespoke suit, John, as you can see. Speaking of clothes, Rosie will wear that beautiful ballerina dress we found. I think that’d be appropriate, today especially. Swoosh, swoosh’ he said turning on himself in his bespoke dressing down. ‘What do you think, Princess?’

Rosie giggled face covered in crumbs and mashed banana. ‘FWOOSH!!’ She cheered clapping for Sherlock's twirl. John leaned over to kiss her cheek hair sticking up in short hedgehog like spikes. ‘Yes he's very swishy this morning, isn't he. You keep telling him to eat. I think maybe something more comfortable for the majority of the train ride. We can get her changed just before we stop. She's more likely to sleep most of the way if she's comfortable. I can fit the dress in with my things. Not taking much. Just the essentials. Tell Sherlock to finish his breakfast.’ Kissing her cheek again he grinned at Sherlock. ‘I'm going to take a guess you're not packed yet.’

‘Packed’? Do I really need to pack? We’ll only be staying for lunch, and dessert, won’t we?’ Sherlock asked, a little concerned. ‘And I am eating, John.’

He chuckled. ‘You know as well as I do that we'll stick around, it'll get late, your Mum will insist we stay for dinner, they'll fuss over Rosie more, then it'll be too late to catch the last train and we'll be spending the night. Not to mention there's snow and very possibly ice in the forecast so it's possible the train won't run for at least a day, maybe two. Again, unless you want to endure being in a car with your brother for several hours, we'll be staying with your parents.’

Rosie help up pieces of banana. ‘Sh'ock, eat. Nanner. Yum.’ picking up another piece she ate it. ‘Yum.’

'For Christ's sake...!' he exclaimed 'Yes, fine, I will. But I can't both pack AND eat, John. And take a shower,' he added sheepishly. 'You know it'll take way too long. I'll just...go and pack, then,' he said leaving the kitchen, head held up high. 'Yes, yes, and take a shower, too.’

John smiled. ‘Pack a few things. Whatever you don't want me handling and packing for you. I'll take care of packing the rest for you. And I'll make up a bit of breakfast you can take with you to eat on the train. Ten minutes to pack the essentials, fifteen in the shower, and we'll still have time to get a cab and make it to the station.’ Kissing his cheek he smiled. ‘We've got this. It's going to be fine. Your parents will be so busy fussing over Rosie and scolding Mycroft for not bringing Greg around sooner that they won't have time to fuss over any change in our relationship.’

'I hope so, John. I really do. Mycroft will, 'he said after a beat. I'm certain he will. And I relish the idea of making him uncomfortable,'he said in a conspiratorial tone. 'Yes, Sir. Shower. Packing,' he said leaving the room after stealing a kiss from John.

He started packing first - there was one item he didn't want John to find, no matter how well wrapped it was. Pyjamas, lounge wear, socks, toiletries. He closed the bag, aware he'll have to put some more...essentials in it after he'd taken his shower. He then took a garment bag in which he hung two freshly pressed shirts (one deep purple, very slim fitted he'd bought for the occasion, the other a navy blue), and a tailored dark suit. He too, would change when it was time to get together at the dinner table. He hung a more classic suit as well as a white shirt at the top of his wardrobe and went to take his shower, closing the bathroom door behind him.

He reappeared 20 minutes later, fully clothed, clean-shaven, ready to go and brace his family. 'We can go.’

            Rosie was dressed comfortably in tights under jeans and a warm jumper over a t shirt and playing happily in the middle of the floor with her stuffed bee. ‘Sh'lock!’ She squealed happily pulling herself up to wobble over to him. Hugging his legs she smiled. ‘Twain!!’

John smiled putting her diaper bag down by the door. ‘Yes sweetheart we're going on the train now. And in a few hours we'll see your grandparents. I packed some of your books, crayons, and there are movies and shows on my laptop for you in case you get tired of looking out the window.’ He smiled at Sherlock.  ‘Perfect timing. Anything else we need? You taking your violin?’

'Don't be daft, John,' he replied affectionately 'Of course I'm taking her. What we need, you and I is have a talk,' he said seriously. 'That jumper...,' he added, cringing.

‘It's your favourite!’ He smiled. ‘Besides, it's warm. Getting a bit worse for wear from your experiments. There are a few acid burns and chemical stains on it. Not to mention baby food stains but it's more than serviceable for travelling in. I've got a couple better ones to wear around your parents.’

Trying to hold Rosie still while he got her coat, hat, and mittens on her he smiled up at Sherlock. ‘This won't be terrible you know. I don't' know why you've always tried to keep me away from your parents and them away from me. They're lovely people. And they're still nice to me despite what happened the last time I was at their house.’

'Yes, John. My favourite. To do experiments on. I dread to think what these “better ones” are,' he added. 'wantedtokeepyouformyself,' he admitted, mumbling.

Leaving Rosie to play with her bee for a moment he gently pulled Sherlock close standing on tiptoe to kiss him softly. ‘And you've got me. They're nice people who I like being around once in a while. I'd like to say thank you for letting me come for the holiday and not insisting I get and stay the hell out of your life. That and they're more than willing to dote on Rosie as if she was their own. It's a lot. At least to me.’ He cupped his cheek gently, stroking it softly.

Sherlock leaned into the touch. ‘Given the...circumstances, she is their own, John. I’m not a betting man but Mummy is so clever she will have figured us out before we ever happened, I’m sure,’ he said lowering his eyes to John’s. ‘I’m glad they want you around, you know,’ he said softly, squeezing John’s hand. ‘And I am, as I think I told you, extremely happy to be part of your life,’ he said pressing his lips against John’s.

Smiling against his lips John gently slid his hand into Sherlock's still slightly damp curls. ‘Nowhere else I'd rather be. I've always belonged here. With you. Or wherever you are. Your parents are kind, generous people who managed to raise two very extraordinary children who turned out well. And I know they'll be a wonderful influence on Rosie. From here on, it's not just the two of us against the world. It's the three of us. You. Me. Rosie. Our family.’

Just as Sherlock smiled and opened his mouth, Rosie tugged at John's jacket with imploring eyes 'Twain? Twwain, Sh'ock!’

John laughed scooping her up and kissing her cheek. ‘Yes sweetheart. Train. We're going, we're going. Got a bit distracted kissing Papa. You'll understand someday.’ Tapping her nose gently with a finger he shifted her to his good arm, piling their bags over his bad shoulder. ‘And we've got your presents for Uncle Mycroft and Uncle Greg all packed up too.’

'Let me, John,' Sherlock said, taking their bags from John's hands. 'Can't have you stumbling down the stairs. You'd have to stay in bed after and I'm certain bed does not mean 'pain'. Down you go, I'm right behind you. Really? What have we got for Greg?’

Hugging Rosie close he smiled. ‘Thanks, love. Had a bit more than I could handle there. Especially since a certain someone's very squirmy.’ Rosie peered over his shoulder bouncing excitedly. ‘Sh'lock! Go twain! Choo choo!’ Setting her down for a moment to zip up her coat he smiled at Sherlock. ‘She's all excited for this. Not that I can blame her. It'll be the first Christmas she might remember some of. Get us a cab, will you? You've always got better lucky than I do. Plus I don't want her deciding to dash off into Speedy's for a treat. Better we wait just inside until the cab's here. And as for what we got Greg, we got him a travel mug that'll keep coffee hot and a new mug to use at work and a thing that plugs into his computer that'll keep it from going cold.’

 

'Ah yes, practical gift,' he commented as he exited through the door to hail a taxi, leaving the door open. He knew how fast he could get one, and wouldn't want to have it wait till his partner and his _their_ daughter came. They put everything in the boot, Sherlock being extra careful with his own bag. 'Shampoo and shower gel in glass bottles. And candles from Pecksniff,' he explained when he saw the look of surprise on John's face.

‘And that's why I make do with whatever shampoo is on sale at Tesco whenever I need some. Plastic is much more durable than glass. And I'm sure your Mum will love the candles. They do smell nice. We should get one for Molly to put in her office. I'm sure she'd appreciate having something nice smelling around.’

Scooping Rosie into his arms he carefully climbed into the cab smiling as she squirmed out of his arms to sit in Sherlock's lap. ‘Sh'lock we go twain now? Pease.’

'To each his own, John,' Sherlock retorted. 'What makes you think I haven't had a few of them delivered to Molly already? I know she likes a calm ambiance. Can help, sometimes.' Sherlock looked at Rosie, settling on his lap. Yes, darling. _Train._ But you need to sit in there,' he said, putting her down in the baby seat. 'Don't worry,' he added after seeing the look of stern discontent on her face and sensed a tantrum arriving. 'It'll only be until the station. If traffic stays as it is, 8 minutes till we get out of the cab. 10 until we get onto the platform, 11 before we get on the train. It shouldn't be too difficult for such a grown little lady, should it?' he said reassuringly all the while fastening her seatbelt.

Rosie huffed pouting and tugging at the seat belt. ‘No.’

John smiled. ‘Here sweetie, you forgot about Bee. He wants to sit with you. Why don't you and bee watch the Paddington movie until we get on the train.’ Starting the movie on his phone he handed it over to her. ‘Let's hope this is the only near tantrum we have. All the excitement's bound to get to her.’ Stroking Rosie's curls he smiled over at Sherlock. ‘Nice of you to have sent some candles to Molly. I know she'll appreciate it.’

‘Of course. Saint Pancras’ station, train to Berwick, arrive at Berwick station at 12.20 and at Father and Mother’s about 10 minutes after,’ he recapitulated. There’ll be a bit of a cab drive from the station to the house. We’ll be there in no time, Rosie dear. But you’ll have time to watch both Paddington and Paddington 2. I’m sure you’ll be a nice lady, and not throw tantrums because there are things you don’t agree with. That’s Papa’s job, that,’ he said, giving John an apologetic smile.

John chuckled. ‘She'll be fine. I hope. Maybe we can get her to nap a bit on the train. And I'm hoping neither of you will throw a fit. At least yours don't usually involve screaming. Hopefully she'll be so excited by the change of scenery that she'll forget all about having a tantrum.’

Rosie smiled up at Sherlock. ‘Papa! Paddyton!’ It wasn't Beauty and the Beast but it was more than enough to keep her entertained for a while.

'A fantastic film. You can point out all the things that don't make sense. You're a Londoner born and raised, you'll see everything that's wrong,' Sherlock told her proudly, a large smile on his face. 'I promise I'll be on my best behaviour, John. Tantrum-wise. As for screaming, well. You're right. It's not usually tantrums that make me scream,' he added pensively, his mind going away to analyse what his feelings about that were. He was intrigued, that much was certain.

John smirked a bit smiling over at him. ‘Yeah we'll just leave the rest of that discussion for when she's asleep and we're alone. I'd rather she not know so early on what Daddy and Papa do when they're alone and she's asleep. You know that your brother's going to have to carry Rosie's Christmas gift to him everywhere. He won't risk Hudders and your Mum and probably Greg be mad at him for upsetting her.’

Sherlock grinned 'Oh yes. I can't wait for Mycroft to walk about with this fantastic umbrella,' he sniggered. 'Don't worry about that… discussion. I, er, was not… aware of… Sorry. I'm not good at this, am I?' he asked, resigned.

Reaching over he squeezed his hand. ‘Hey. It's ok. Really is, love. We're still figuring everything out. We can talk about things tonight after everyone's gone to bed. Or we can take a walk and talk about things. That is if you and Mycroft aren't busy arguing over who's smoking.’ He chuckled softly running his thumb over the knuckles on Sherlock's hand. ‘I don't expect you to be perfect you know. Love's complicated and messy. But we'll figure everything out together.’

'It'll be Mycroft. It's always Mycroft who's smoking,' Sherlock replied petulantly. 'We've done well so far, haven't we? Navigating the complicated waves, I mean. And a bit of the mess. I'm sorry for that,' Sherlock said in a low voice, blushing.

‘Yeah.’ He nodded squeezing his hand. ‘We've done really well. There's no right or wrong way. Just our way. You can always talk to me about things. Just have to be careful what we say and when.’ Chuckling he kissed the top of Rosie's head. ‘That sort of thing is not what I want added to her vocabulary right now. Don't be sorry for anything, ok.’

'Perfectly understandable. I wish we already were on the train. Faster we arrive, faster we leave,' Sherlock said a bit of anxiety in his voice. 'I know Rosie will have the time of her life though. That makes it easier. I can't help but needing…’

John squeezed his hand. ‘I'll be there the entire time. It's going to be fine. I promise. Everyone's seen us coming from miles away. Mycroft and Greg, that came out of left field for almost everyone. It simmered along for a while and then just happened. They're much more interesting than us. Your parents aren't that bad. They don't meddle too much.’

'I know. Thank you for being there, John. God knows the change of scenery won't do me much good. Bad memories in the countryside for me. But we'll make plenty of good ones for Rosie. I do have to admit that the countryside under the snow offer a pretty landscape. I'm sure she'll appreciate that. And Christmas. And being at her grandparents'. At least I hope so. And that she won't pick up on my distress.’

John squeezed his hand. ‘Just try not to shut down and shut me out, ok? That's all I'm asking. You're not the same person anymore. You're brilliant and amazing and Greg will back up everything. You two are responsible for a lot of people getting caught. You've got quite a bit to be proud of. She's going to love playing in the snow. At least until she gets too cold and wet and wants to go in for chocolate and biscuits.’

Sherlock chuckled at that. 'I can very well imagine a sulky Rosie fed up with the snow because it is wet and cold and demand something to distract her - John. What if she demands something else than biscuits and hot chocolate?' he added in an alarmed whisper.

‘Then I'm sure your Mum will have it handled. Hot chocolate or warm milk or maybe even some cider and a few biscuits or something else sweet will put her to rights. Then once she's warm and dry she'll fall asleep. I have a feeling your Mum knows exactly how to handle a fussy, demanding child,’ he teased Sherlock gently.

'I resent the implication you are making here, John,' said Sherlock haughtily before dissolving into a fit of giggles.

Squeezing his hand before raising it to his lips for a tender kiss he laughed. ‘Oh come on. Between you and Mycroft I'm sure she's got a whole bag of tricks to convince fussy children not to be fussy. She's going to have a great time, Sherlock. Come on, look at it this way, it has to be better than the last time we were all at your parents' house for Christmas dinner. I mean, it can't really be worse.’

Sherlock sobered almost instantly. 'No. No, I don't see how it could be any worse than...that,' he said before turning his gaze away to the shops and passing cars. 'We've arrived, it seems,' he stated in a completely detached voice a minute later. ‘

John squeezed his hand. ‘This time we've got Rosie with us to brighten things up.’

Tugging on Sherlock's sleeve she pointed excitedly. ‘Papa! Look! Train! We go train now!’

'Indeed. Wait a minute, darling, if you keep squirming Papa is not going to be able to unfasten your seatbelt. You wouldn't want to stay there any longer than necessary now, would you?' he said in a serious tone, knowing she'd understand some of the message. 'Train,' he repeated, a little shocked. 'You said _train_. John! She said train! Properly,' he beamed. 'Oh, congratulations, darling, you'll soon see that trains are marvellous,' he exclaimed, scooping her up from the seat. 'I'm so proud of you, little bee,' he exclaimed, planting a loud kiss on her cheek. 'John, your daughter is brilliant!' he continued, taking their bags from the boot of the taxi. He collected everything and put them all on a trolley. There was no way John would carry anything - the cold had re-awoken the pain in his shoulder, he could tell as he was holding himself more stiffly - and he simply had to express his joy at Rosie's pronouncing the word correctly. That sound was not an easy one, after all. Oh, how he wished John would let him teach her the word 'murderer'! They would have so much fun!

Rosie giggled eyes wide at the size of the train. ‘Papa! Train! Big train!’ She held on to Sherlock tightly. ‘Daddy! Train!’

John smiled, his heart lifting at Sherlock's joy at Rosie getting the word right. ‘I see it. Like the Harry Potter train isn't it.’ Blond curls bobbing around her cheeks she nodded. ‘Yeah!’

‘You want to help Papa find our seats?’ He really should have taken something before they'd left. The heater in the cab had barely been working and it was steadily getting colder. Not to mention he could feel the incoming snow by the ache in his shoulder.

'The Harry Potter train...What is that again?' Sherlock asked, still basking in pride. 'Popular culture, I suppose. Let's go find our seats, Rosie!' he exclaimed. 'John, keep up, please. I'll give you something - I did notice your shoulder was acting up two nights ago and that you didn't take anything this morning. I have painkillers but my hands are full. So. We have to find our seats! Ahoy! Onwards!' he shouted, arm held high as if he were brandishing a sword.

‘Keeping up as best I can,’ he chuckled managing to follow along in the small space left behind Sherlock and Rosie as he made his way through the crowd. ‘Bloody madman,’ he chuckled, shaking his head. ‘I've got some in my bag for emergencies. And I think this is heading for a situation that calls for at least half of one.’ He hoped Sherlock had booked them comfortable seats where they wouldn't be too crowded or have to deal with too much noise. The pain was putting his nerves a bit on edge.

Happy though he was at Rosie's breakthrough, there was a large part of Sherlock that couldn't stand the noise around him, or the people, for that matter. 'Ahah! At last' he loudly stated, as he put Rosie down on the seats of the compartment he had booked for them. 'Silence, at last,' he added, sprawling on the  comfortable seat. 'I'll unload these in a bit,' he told John as he saw him enter, his face set in a rather grim expression.

Rosie stood up on the seat nose pressed against the window as she watched the activity on the platform.


	5. On the Christmas Express

John slumped into his seat, letting out a loud sigh. ‘Glad that's over with. Didn't think it'd be quite this crowded. And loud. And crazy. Hope it's not this bad on the way back. I'd almost take the drive back stuck in a car with Mycroft if it meant not having to do that again.’ He managed a faint chuckle. ‘Rosie, sweetheart, let me get your coat off you.’

'I hope you'd never seriously consider that,' Sherlock retorted. 'I told you going to my parents' for Christmas would not be a walk in the park,' he added, draping himself in his coat.

‘Fine. You can take the train and deal with the crowd. I'll just nap in the back of the car while your brother and his assistant continue to run the world.’ He smirked, teasing him. ‘Being around your parents wasn't going to be the hard part. I knew that. Crowds put me on edge on good days.’

'Never,' Sherlock grumbled. 'Nevdothattome,' he sulked.

John smiled wrestling Rosie's coat off her and occupying her with some of her toys. ‘I'm sure it won't come to that. No sense borrowing trouble.’

Dragging one of her books from her bag, Rosie climbed in Sherlock lap. ‘Papa book. Pease.’

If there was one thing (well, two, as it happened) Sherlock could not resist, it was Rosie's requests. 'Yes, darling,' he grumbled, turning around, unwrapping his coat, and settling her more securely into his lap. 'Which one do you...? Oh. All right, then. _The Night before Christmas_ ,' he told John as he saw him raising his brow. 'A few pages, darling, then Papa will have to unload the bags. And I promise I'll get back to reading that to you after.’

‘Kissmas.’ She giggled happily snuggling into him and patting the book gently. Cocking her head she looked at the picture of Santa. ‘Santa look like Uncle Microsoft?’

John sniggered. Somehow they hadn't quite broken Rosie's habit of calling Mycroft that. They'd tried but there was only so much that could be done. Mycroft tolerated it and liked Rosie much more than he let on.

'You could say he is Fatter Christmas on top of being Microsoft,' Sherlock replied, laughing. 'Try calling him that when you see him. Make sure to insist on saying Fatter. Mark your Ts loudly, darling.’

‘Fatter Kissmas!’ she laughed, clapping her hands. She didn't get the joke but if Papa was laughing then it didn't really matter.

John grinned trying to stop his giggles. ‘You're terrible. You really shouldn't encourage her like that. You know he won't say anything. He adores her.’

'All the more reason to, don't you think... my dear?' he replied, looking straight at John with a mischievous air. 'Very good, Rosie! I'm sure Mycroft will like that new nickname a lot,' he added, tousling her hair.

John laughed shaking his head. ‘You are a terrible, terrible influence. You shouldn't be teaching her to annoy your brother. No matter how funny it might be...’

‘Unca Myke is Fatter Kissmas!’ she giggled, clapping her hands.

'Your wise daughter begs to differ, I think, dear,' Sherlock replied a broad smile on his face. 'Are you sure it's this book you want me to read you? I'll read it again. Tonight, I think. When Fatter Christmas is sitting with us,' he said conspiratorially.

Nodding Rosie reached for the bag to get another book. John smiled helping her get out her book of princess stories. ‘You love these stories because they have your name in them. Papa can read those stories to you and save the other one for later. I'll get started arranging the bags a bit.’

'Are you sure, John? I did tell you I'd take care of that, after all,' he asked, uncertain. There was, after all, more than just a jumper for John in there and if by any misfortune it were to break…

He smiled. ‘I'll get a start on it. Not going to lift anything heavy. Just organize things a bit so we can move about in here without tripping over anything and risk something breaking if someone fell. She'll probably fall asleep after a story or two. Then I'll hold her while you move things up out of the way.’

'Quite right. Dear.' Trying out using these terms of endearment had been... strange at first but he was becoming fond of doing so. He might have to be more careful and not let any slip when at his parents'. Don't let it be said that Sherlock Holmes could ever be affectionate.

John smiled moving the bags carefully and just enough to leave more of a walkway so no one would trip and get hurt. Being stuck in the A&E was not the way he wanted to spend the holiday. Leaning over to kiss Sherlock's cheek and smooth Rosie's hair he settled back to watch them. He'd been an idiot. A first class idiot. There had been absolutely no reason to try and keep Sherlock and Rosie apart. She adored him and he was completely devoted to her. His detailed spreadsheets of her growth and development and careful notes from various child development books proved that. They were quite a pair.

'Be quiet, John,' Sherlock admonished. Even if the doctor hadn't said a word, the detective could still hear him think, and that was distracting. Taking care of Rosie was of the highest importance, as it would also please John. No distractions were to be had there, she needed his full attention. _Just as her father deserved it, too, in other circumstances_ , his mind supplied. _Where had that come from?_

'Look after her, dear, would you? Got to take care of those heavy bags, now,' he said after he'd read her two books ( _Paddington_ and _Beauty and the Beast_ , the latter offering a very poor adaptation of the cartoon the little girl was so fond of).

John smiled hugging Rosie close. ‘Did you like story time with Papa?’ Kissing the top of her head he smiled. How about a bit of a snack, hmm?’ Digging in his pocket he produced a pack of organic fruit snacks and opened them for her. ‘Look out there see how fast we're going.’

Standing up and holding on to the window ledge she watched the scenery with wide eyes. ‘Woosh!’

Being busy arranging the bags didn't mean Sherlock was not aware of what was happening in the compartment. He smiled. 'I told you trains were wonderful, didn't I?' he asked Rosie as he delicately put his bag in the luggage net. Even with the utmost care, there was still some noise coming from it.

Giving Rosie a juice box John kept an arm around her to keep her from falling. Eventually the view got boring and she settled in his lap watching Sherlock with interest and clearly trying to stay awake. John smiled rubbing her back soothingly, something that usually helped her fall asleep. ‘I think she's really enjoying it. The noise and the motion are getting to her though. Bet she'll be out like a light now that she's had a snack.’ Watching Sherlock he smiled. ‘Please tell me you didn't bring your chemistry supplies...’

'Oh you don't have to bet. Don't even have to deduce it. Just look at her, sleepy eyes, breathing a bit slower, less coordinated movements than usual... She will be out in less time than is needed to say Queen Elizabeth,' he concurred. 'Chemistry supplies? No, I haven't. Why? Would that be a problem if I had? Remember. Shampoo and shower gel in glass bottles, John.’

Rocking Rosie a bit as he rubbed her back he chuckled. ‘No. Not a problem. Just wondering if I should be prepared for you to unleash sleeping gas to get out of another one of your brother's boring pompous talks about the state of affairs in the world. And yes, I remember the shampoo and shower gel.’

Looking down at Rosie with a smile he nuzzled her hair softly. ‘Your brother mentioned something about play dates. Please tell me we're not getting roped into royal play dates...’

'Only if he deems the Royal children worthy of being in her company. Intelligence-wise,' Sherlock replied a little nonplussed. 'Why would it make any difference?' he asked, genuinely intrigued.

John smiled shaking his head. ‘I suppose not. Nothing else in her life's ever going to be 'normal' so why shouldn't some of her first playmates be royalty,’ he laughed softly cheek resting against Rosie's golden curls. ‘So long as they're nice. Seems a good thing they're going to actual school and interacting with normal people. Makes sense.’

Sherlock turned around and faced John. 'You're not seriously expecting me to discuss... People, be they royal or not, are you? You know it's not my area,' he added.

John grinned. ‘No, love. Just a comment. That's all. Just the ramblings of an overtired father. That's all.  Although I'd still love to know who Irene had pictures of and what the pictures were of. I sort of forgot about that bit after you stole the ashtray for me.’

Sherlock was incredulous.

'"Overtired?"’ how can you be "overtired", you slept for 8 hours! Quite soundly, might I add.’

He smiled adoringly up at him. ‘For one night. Doesn't make up for the last several nights when I slept like complete shite. I was a bit worried she was coming down with something so I was half awake listening to her, checking her temperature,’ he shrugged.

'You shouldn't have. You know I have her best interests at heart. And that I don't make it a habit to sleep. I could check on her in these cases, if it meant you'd be able to rest,' he replied softly. 'Or is it our new... Sleeping arrangements... That helped you sleep so soundly?' he asked shyly.

‘The new sleeping arrangements,’ he nodded firmly with a smile. ‘Knowing you were there and even if I was sound asleep and didn't hear her over the monitor that you would and I knew you'd go take care of her helped a lot. That and I think we did a pretty damn good job wearing each other out.’

Sherlock blushed. 'Yes, we... We did. It was... Good,' Sherlock replied at a loss for words.

Smiling John nodded. ‘It was much more than good. It was amazing. You were amazing.’

For some inexplicable reason Sherlock suddenly found his nails to be extremely interesting. 'I imagine this... Compliment... Does not mean the same as it usually does, in the… context of... last night's… events...' Sherlock finally said. He was still uncomfortable with the idea yet strangely... Intrigued by it.

Shaking his head John smiled. ‘No, it does. It really does. You were, you are amazing. I'm always going to think so. And I plan to keep telling you and showing you how amazing I think you are.’

Sherlock cautiously looked up. 'You mean... You plan to keep on... Continuing...? I - I don't - I am not opposed to it. Obviously,' he added, looking down and shifting to rearrange himself.

John nodded. ‘I would very much like to continue if you're comfortable with it. That's what's most important.’

'I am. Comfortable with it. Maybe not all of it. I don't... I'm not sure. Talking about it… that's... Difficult.’

Reaching over John laid a hand on Sherlock’s knee. ‘I know it is. And thank you for trying so hard to explain. You can always write things out and give them to me. That's fine.’

Sherlock put his hand on John's. 'Writing... It would make things even more difficult, I should think. Maybe I should just... Stop thinking. I don't know how to do that. Well. I do. But it's not... I'm clean, but it's not. What I... Used to... Shut my brain up,' he admitted.

Squeezing his hand he nodded. ‘I understand. You can talk to me, write it out, play it and I'll do my best to put it all together. However it works best for you. You don't have to stop thinking. Just try to get things in an order I can follow.’  He smiled up at him. ‘We'll figure out new ways of making your brain shut up for a little bit. I think we got a start on that last night.’

Sherlock blushed again at the memory. 'Yes, I think we did,' he replied. 'But...' he cut himself short, unsure of how to proceed and not wanting to hurt John's feelings with his awkwardness.

‘It's ok. I won't take it personally. This whole thing's going to take some talking about and working through. It's bound to be awkward at times. Just know that no matter how awkward and uncomfortable I'm not going anywhere. It's kind of like pulling off a plaster you've had on for a while. It's going to hurt but the sooner it's off, the sooner the worst part's over with.’

Sherlock subtly nodded. 'I don't think it will be... Enough. Had the case of the Christmas present not happened and had I not cracked it... Had emotions not run high, as well... It really wouldn't have been enough,' Sherlock admitted.

‘Well I'd like to think that we'd have straightened things out. It just happened sooner rather than later. You're not alone in this. I'm going to be here to help you figure it all out, however it happens. Whatever works that's good for you and healthy and works is what we'll go with. It'll be more than a bit of trial and error, but I know we'll figure it out together. Maybe I can still be your conductor of light and help you figure this out.’

Looking down at Rosie he smiled. ‘And at least we've got her. She'll always be giving you new things to deduce and analyse and figure out. Like that week when she went from loving carrots to hating them and screaming about them and throwing mashed carrots at us to loving them again. I never did figure that one out.’

'You always are a conductor of light to me, John. Surely you know that by now. And much more,' he added, lacing their fingers together. 'We have set things right, yes. I assure you, we have. Not for too long, however. I… am… aware of what else may happen, and I... I am quite... Relieved not to be alone.’ He shrugged. 'As you should know it was only a matter of acquiring the taste of them. And the texture. Teeth. She started hating them because her growing teeth hurt. Suddenly them being pureed wasn't enough. She threw mashed carrots at us because she needed them to be hard enough to bite into them. When it was over she started liking them again,’ he explained. ‘Doesn't take much to figure out.‘

Squeezing his hand he nodded. ‘Never alone, Sherlock. Not now. Not ever again. We're in this together. The whole bit. We can work through this as long as we keep talking and listening and trying. We'll take all of this one step at a time. And if we stay at a step for a while, or forever, that's fine.’ Smiling down at Rosie he huffed a laugh. ‘Now why didn't I think of that? Or think to ask you sooner. We'd be in a right mess without you, Sherlock.’

'Because you're an idiot, of course,' Sherlock answered without losing a beat. 'My idiot,' he added fondly.

‘Always your idiot. Only one who can call me an idiot and it's not insulting. Well, a little bit, but not much.’ He laughed softly shifting slightly to lean into Sherlock. ‘See I try and read all those books about raising children and the blogs and it's all full of contradictions that make my head spin. Then I get pissed off and say the hell with it all. Good thing I've got you sorting through it making sense of things. We'd be lost without you.’

'As would I, as I told you already, dear,' he replied a soft smile on his face. 'I'm not going anywhere. Well, not without you,' he amended. 'I'm even going to my parents' Christmas lunch and possibly dinner because you ord- asked me to.’

‘Because I _firmly insisted_ ,’ he laughed. ‘And I have my reasons for insisting. And not just because your parents want to spoil Rosie with Christmas presents. They're the only grandparents she'll have. I'd like her to spend a lot of time with them and have a strong relationship with them. It's important. Admit it, you don't hate visiting your parents as much as you pretend to. Especially when they're going to be making much more of a fuss over Greg and scolding Mycroft for not bringing him around sooner. I'm old news,’ he laughed softly. ‘Not nearly as interesting as a new person.’

'I beg to differ. You're always interesting. You never cease to amaze and surprise me. But I do admit that seeing  Mycroft scolded - he really is bringing G...reg over then? - and them fuss over his presence rather than ours and our... Change of status will be fantastic.’

John smiled. ‘Like I said we're old news. No one will be surprised by this. Everyone else has just been waiting for this. For us to figure it all out and stop being so bloody stupid. Mycroft though. Now that will be something _no one_ saw coming. Probably not even him. And for him to fall for Greg who's as straightforward as they get and couldn't charm or schmooze his way out of a wet paper bag. They couldn't be more different. Which I guess is why they work,’ he shrugged with a smile.

'There's a saying for that, isn't there? “Opposites attract”, isn't it?' Sherlock asked, wondering if he'd ever get colloquials right.' But can we not speak about my brother being in a... Relationship, please? That's so... Unlike him, so alien, the concept is so unthinkable... And the fact that he is my _brother_ makes it even more difficult to contemplate,' Sherlock said with a shudder. 'Speaking of... Our relationship is far easier for me. I should think,' he added in a soft, unsure voice.

John chuckled softly. ‘Well I'd hope our relationship would be easier for you to talk about. At least to me. It'll get easier I think. I hope so anyway. You do realize that you'll get to pull Mycroft aside and have the 'if you hurt him I will never forgive you or work a case for you again' speech about Greg, right? You and I both know Greg's as honest and upright as they come. If anyone's going to end things, it'll have to be your brother. For both their sake, and ours, let's hope it never happens.’

'Do people really do that? “If you hurt him I'll break you”? I thought it was something out of one of your beloved fictions,' Sherlock replied, a little confused. 'Oh. Oh! That first night, when he expressed his... “concern”,' he started, surprised.

John laughed. ‘Yeah. Your brother wasn't quite as nice. I had no idea for a few minutes that you two were related. But I didn't take well to being kidnapped so there was no way in hell I was going to have a seat and chat with him. I more or less got the "don't hurt him" speech after he tried to bribe me and I turned him down cold. He said something along the lines of I'd either be the best or worst thing to happen to you,’ he chuckled with a shrug. ‘And people sometimes make those speeches.’

Sherlock looked at John, amazed yet again at people's... ways sometimes. He then quirked an eyebrow 'I'm surprised he didn't know there and then that you be the best thing to happen to me. Meeting you, living with you, missing you, caring - loving you... This is the best thing that could have ever happened to me. I know you said it already, but I can only wish it lasts for a very, very long time,' he added, his voice having become a soft, tender whisper as he'd taken John's hands in his and brought their heads close, his eyes darting to John's lips.

John smiled softly tipping his head slightly to brush a tender kiss against Sherlock's lips. ‘I plan on it lasting for a very, very long time. As long as you'll have me. Us.’ He glanced down at Rosie who had cuddled up against Sherlock.

‘You are without a doubt the best thing to ever happen to me. Without you, I wouldn't have Rosie. Without you I have my doubts I'd even still be alive.’

Sherlock's eyes had become... shiny and his voice softer still. 'John,' he said placing a hesitant hand to his chin, making him meet his gaze. 'Always. Don't you **_ever_** doubt that. I swore I would always be there and never let you down. I stand by want I said. I meant it. For both of you,' he added in all seriousness. 'How wouldn't you have Rosie without me,' he asked, looking down at Rosie, whom he drew closer to him.

Nuzzling into Sherlock's hand he smiled softly. ‘If I'd never met you, I never would have met Mary, without her I wouldn't have Rosie. I can't imagine raising her without you. She adores you and I know how much you love her. You're better with her than Mary ever was.’ He shook his head slightly.

'Then don't imagine raising her without me,' Sherlock replied matter of factly. 'It's... I feel as if she were mine,' he whispered. 'Are you angry? Does that make sense?' he asked.

Cupping his cheek he smiled. "That is _exactly_ how I want you to feel, Sherlock. Believe me I'm putting you down as a contact person on all her forms. I've been thinking of starting to looking at some nursery schools for her to go to. Just a few hours here and there. Just so she can meet other kids.’ He smiled down at Rosie. ‘As much as she acts like you I don't think anyone would question she's yours.’

Sherlock smiled, but there was a hint of unease. 'That's... Good. But...' he took in a deep breath 'John, how will that... Work? Officially, I mean. For school. Two fathers?’

Stroking his cheek he smiled softly. ‘I suppose it will work out just fine. Not that unusual these days. We'll go look at places together, the three of us, see which one suits us. We'll find a place that she likes and won't blink at both of us being her parents. Clara has a friend who runs one. Harry says it's very nice.’

'I trust you. If you're confident it won't be difficult... much as I hate to suggest the idea of asking my brother for anything, Mycroft can be of some utility. If it ever comes to that,' Sherlock said, reassured by John's words and his confidence.

‘Things have come a long way. If Harry and Clara say it won't be an issue, then I trust them. Especially if they are accepting of couples like us. And I was thinking of asking Mycroft to do a security sweep/analysis of the place before making our final decision. Just to be on the safe side. It'll just be for a few hours a couple days a week. Not like when she's home she just watches telly. I know you're always reading to her and doing things with her to help her learn.’

Sherlock held Rosie closer. 'Yes, I am. Isn't it enough? It should. I'm sure they're all... Well. Stupid, but that is obvious. But I mean, the both of us. We are enough,' Sherlock declared, his mood going from intrigued and (more than a bit) apprehensive to downright disinclined and opposed to the idea.

John smiled softly. ‘It's just to get her used to a "school" type setting and time with other children. I'm sure she's far ahead of most of the children. You do all the right things. You read to her, explain things to her in ways she can understand, you two do science experiments and you show her places on the map and tell her about far away places. She loves your princess story lessons. School's not all about education. It's about socialization and learning to get along with people that you may not like.’

'I know I do right. Of course I do, John,' Sherlock replied a bit curtly. 'I don't want her to have to fend off people who may not like her,' he added a bit sombre. 'Of _course_ there will be people she won't like. She has extraordinary models at home. Why inflict her with lesser ones? That would be cruel, John. Especially if she has to... endure it. I don't want her to go, I don't want her to get hurt,' he concluded crossing his arms on his chest.

John smiled unable to resist kissing him softly. ‘So then we teach her to stand up for herself and to know that if some people don't like her or make fun of her it's their problem, not hers. That there is _nothing_ wrong with her and something wrong in them that makes them want to lash out at someone else. It's a painful but necessary part of growing up. If she doesn't go to school she won't have the chance to make as many friends.’ He stroked Sherlock's cheek softly. ‘Think of how much fun she'll have. A group of kids her age all over the lounge in their sleeping bags having a sleepover, up all night talking and laughing, shushing each other so they won't wake us up, staying up all hours, listening to their crap music, gushing over celebrity crushes. Don't you want her to grow up as healthy, happy, and normal as possible?’

'She knows there isn't and won't ever be anything wrong with her,' Sherlock retorted, pouting, still uncrossing his arms. 'Of course there'd be something wrong with others. First would be their stupidity. Second their inability to see how wonderful and brilliant she is. Third their frankly lack of skills for any kind of observation. As for growing up healthy and happy... Why can't she do that without mixing with other children? I'll remind you that I'm... Not terribly good with them. And I'd very honestly rather not have "a group of kids her age" in the living room. As I'm sure you would have guessed,' he concluded, slightly alarmed.

John smiled. ‘Any sleepovers won't be for some time yet. And I'm sure Mrs Hudson would be more than happy to play hostess to a group of giggling girls.’

Taking his hand he squeezed it gently. ‘She'd be able to sharpen her deduction skills on people her own age. Which would be much easier for her than trying to deduce adults with much more complicated emotions and interests. She'll have to learn to live in a world where not everyone else is as intelligent as she is. You have to manage living in a world where people aren't as intelligent and deal with it. It isn't always easy but she needs to learn how to cope.’

‘Yes… Living surrounded by id… People less intelligent than you is really difficult. Coping is… Precisely what one needs. Children and adults… As difficult to deduce. Well, their common denominators, anyway. Motivations… You are right. They are easier to deduce when considering children’s rather than adults. You might be right about socialising,’ Sherlock added after a fashion. ‘Didn't do me much good, I think, not to go to preschool and skip the first few key stages of curricular education.’

John nodded. ‘All the more reason to keep her in the same grade as other kids her age and give her more challenging stuff when she's at home. And I'm sure she'll make some friends her age that will like her no matter what. She can handle anything with our love and support. It won't always be easy, but it'll help her. She'll always have us to turn to. Always. No matter what.’

‘That much is obvious,’ Sherlock huffed. ‘More challenging stuff… Dear, given the low standards of the general population, I think she will need more challenging subjects and methods. Keep her brain active. She will be bored out of her mind at school. At any type of school.’ Sherlock let his thoughts wander for almost a minute, imagining a variety of scenarios that presented themselves about this particular change in their little girl’s life. ‘Dear, remind me. Why are we talking about Rosie going to school when she's not even 2 years old?’

John chuckled softly nuzzling his cheek. ‘Because as parents we have to think about these things and plan ahead. We need to begin thinking about schools now if we want her on the list to get in to the best ones. _Without_ Mycroft's help. We'll look into schools that have a good advanced placement program. She'll still be around others her age but the material will be more advanced. We'll just see when the time comes.’

Sherlock uncrossed his arms and rested his head on John's. ‘That sounds… Reasonable. As much as possible I don't want Mycroft involved in her life. Oh, you know what I mean. I don't want him to be as annoying and meddling an uncle to her as he is an annoying meddling brother to me.’ A comfortable silence settled as they were both enjoying each other’s presence. ‘Jawn. I wish we were there already. Can we have a nap and cuddle, all three of us so the trip goes faster?’ he asked, his voice barely louder than a whisper.

Smiling he nuzzled Sherlock's hair. ‘Mm that'd be nice. I'm never going to turn down a cuddle with my two favourite people. Not ever. I'm sure Mycroft will offer to pull strings to get Rosie into all the best schools and to meet the right children from the right families. None of that's important. What's important is that she's happy.’

Sherlock passed an arm around John to bring him close and let a sigh escape his lips before placing an insistent kiss on John’s. ‘Please, dear. Be quiet. Cuddling doesn’t require talking, does it? I’m sure more kissing can be arranged if you need incentive to stop talking,’ he said a small smirk dancing on his lips as John was opening his mouth to answer him.

Giggling softly he nuzzled Sherlock's nose kissing him softly. ‘Mm yes, bee. I'll shut up now so that you can get a little beauty sleep. Never going to turn down more kissing from you. Never.’ Shifting slightly to take a little pressure off his shoulder he leaned into Sherlock comfortably.

Sherlock felt good, Rosie nuzzled against him, John leaning against him, all warm. He enjoyed the calm of the cuddle ( _him_ , cuddling. He still could not believe it. He even had been the one to ask for one!). The vibration and rolling of the train lulled John to sleep as he was drifting. 'John!' he exclaimed, sitting upright suddenly. Rosie had not stirred, his hold on her was still firm. 'Your medication. For your shoulder. Take some. Your discomfort will turn into pain if you don't.’

John startled out of a half doze blinking at Sherlock several times before it finally processed. ‘Mm right. Yeah. Suppose I should. Last thing I want is for it to lock up. Should probably see about getting Cortisone shots this winter. Keep it from locking up on me. It's done it a couple times and it's not good. Almost impossible to do anything one handed. Especially when this one had me running constantly,’ he nodded to Rosie. ‘I should probably see a physical therapist again but I'm not sure how much good it'd do. Last thing I want is to have to have it operated on again.’

'You're right, that will not do. As for doing anything one handed, I can and will give you a helping hand of course but I know being somewhat incapacitated is not practical at all. You should do everything you can to make the pain disappear. You need both your hands.’

‘Not much of a doctor with just one arm,’ he joked. ‘Doctors make the worst patients. I know from experience. Rosie and I are lucky to have you around to help us. Last I knew, there was little chance I'd ever be completely pain free. Mostly. That was as best I would hope for. There's lots of scar tissue. Bands of it layered over each other. Not a lot that can be done about that.’

'Last you knew. You just said that doctors made the worst patients. When was the last time you updated your knowledge on the matter?' Sherlock said, sharp disapproval in his voice.

John scratched at his eyebrow. ‘A few years ago when I had a bad flare up. Shortly before I ran into Mike.’ Sighing he interlocked his fingers and holding his hands up. ‘The bands are something like this. Interwoven, interconnected, on top of each other. It's a real mess up in there. On the really bad days I can hear as well as feel the gritty grinding of all of that up in there. Not pleasant.’

'”A few years”...That's your new euphemism for “decade”, is it, John? I can only imagine how... Unpleasant it is,' he said, gritting his teeth, 'but after so long progress has been made. I know what I'm talking about,' he concluded, grimly.

John smiled slightly. ‘Well, you know, I've been a little busy and preoccupied with a lot of other things. Besides, there haven't been all that many advances in the treatment of scar tissue. I deal with it the best I can.  It's wrapped all around a bunch of the nerves up in there.’

'Oh but there _have_ been advances. We'll keep this conversation for another time, however. Take your painkillers and give me a cuddle,' Sherlock said, adamant.

He chuckled softly. ‘Almost forgot how bloody bossy and hard-headed you can be about things. Half a pill. I'd take even less if I thought you'd let me get away with it. Everyone thinks I'm the one always taking care of you. They don't know how well you've always taken care of me.’

'I imagine you want to be aware of a dim, barely muted pain,' Sherlock grumbled, ignoring John's half-hearted complaint. 'You're a doctor, it seems obvious that people would assume that you're the… caring one, especially as I'm such a walking hazard'. He shook his head. 'I wouldn't say that I always took good care of you, John. I… tried… and it drove us apart,' he said, his voice filled with remorse.

Wrapping an arm around him he gently pulled Sherlock close. ‘Now, you listen to me Sherlock Holmes, both of us did about a metric ton of shit that drove us apart. It's not all on you. And I'm trying to let myself accept that it's not all my fault either. We were both stupid. We both made mistakes. What matters is we learn from them and do better and be better people. You took, and you still take, very good care of me.’

Sherlock fell into John's embrace, huffing. 'You're always so precise.' He put his head on John's shoulder ' _Always_ , John.' He procured John a bottle of water and a full pill. 'Now take that, dear and do come in my arms. I will not take "no" for an answer,' he finished, his voice soft, letting drop the matter of responsibility over their being apart - he knew it was no use pursuing it, John could be as stubborn as he was. He elected to focus on something he had not indulged in, much less initiated for quite some time – tenderness.

‘You're far too good to me,’ John murmured softly kissing Sherlock on the cheek. Cuddling into him he squeezed his hand. ‘I love you. Don't ever forget that. You're amazing and the best thing to ever happen to me.’

*******

John smiled straightening Rosie's princess dress and adjusting the sparkly bow headband holding her curls in place. 'You look pretty as a picture!'

She smiled up at Sherlock loving the swishy sound the dress made. 'Shlock! Look! Dess!'

Sherlock's father waited at the station waving to them. Thankfully his son was easy to spot in a crowd. Smiling brightly at the sight of John and Rosie. 'Hello there! Always good to see you Sherlock. You're looking very well. John, so glad you could make it. Hello Rosie dear.'

Smiling brightly she eagerly went into his arms kissing his cheek. 'Hi!'

John smiled with a laugh. 'Thank you for having us. It means a lot. It really does.'

'Hello, Father. You look very well, too,' he said in a smile. A nudge from John's elbow was all it took to allow himself to remember that he was at his parents' to have a good time and enjoy their company and not overthink everything - lecture John had given him several times. He let a breath out and let his smile broaden. 'I concur with John, it really is a joy that you're willing to have us all, Father,' he said warmly.

Still holding Rosie securely his father freed one arm to give Sherlock a hug. 'It's always nice to have our boys home. Your mother would have come but she's busy in the kitchen. She's been cooking for days. You know you're welcome to stay as long as you like. I know it's not nearly as exciting as London but the company's good,' he chuckled.

'Yes, Mother certainly always cooks for a battalion, no matter that we will be 6. Well, 8, I should say. Maybe 10, depending on how well Mycroft's "diet" is going,' Sherlock said cheekily. 'Ah, you know me too well, Father. London and adventures are... Yes. I know you and Mother are good company.'

John smiled warmly. It was impossible not to like Sherlock's father. He was incredibly warm and kind. Sherlock took after him more than he'd admit. 'It's nice to be back. I appreciate you being willing to let me, and Rosie, come with Sherlock.'

He waved a hand. 'Think nothing of it, John. Everyone makes mistakes. Some mistakes are bigger than others but certainly nothing that can't be forgiven.'

Sherlock smiled warmly at the display of affection in the words his father had just given John. 'Tolerant and forgiving. But not because it's the time of the year to be, John d-' _Bugger and blast, he's good as let it slip._

Smiling his father quirked a brow, a trait Sherlock had inherited. 'Ahhh I see. Finally got it all straightened out then, did you. Well it's about time. I won't say a word to your mother. I'm sure she'll figure it out quick as a wink but it'll make her happy.' Smiling he extended a hand to John. 'Welcome to the family, John. It's nice to officially have you and Rosie as part of it.'

John smiled brightly shaking his hand and just barely managing not to salute as he radiated pleasure at the warm welcome. 'Thank you. It's a pleasure to be part of the family.' He smiled up at Sherlock eyes a bit shiny. This meant so much to him. Of course the Holmes family wasn't exactly 'normal' but it was a family full of love. Something that had been lacking in his own home. It had been there, in a way, but never like in Sherlock's family.

Sherlock all but flushed before looking at his feet, at the trains, at the flow of people ebbing and flowing out of the train station, anywhere but at his father. But when his eyes settled on John's shiny eyes and brightly lit face, he couldn't help but feel pride. For so long he had felt pride over things of his own doing, over his own cleverness, over his mastery of emotions - but now, it was... different. He knew that he was feeling pride. But this... This was good. He was proud of John. Proud of seeing him, making him happy. Proud to call him his. Proud to have Rosie, too. The little angel was walking a few paces ahead of them, stumbling a little, turning in her ballerina dress and enjoying the swishy sound of it.

John smiled swallowing hard and taking Sherlock's hand, squeezing it as he watched Rosie ahead of them. Thankfully the crowd had thinned a bit so he didn't have to worry as much about her getting separated from them. That and he knew he could trust Sherlock's cat-like reflexes and long reach to snatch her up out of danger before anything happened. With Sherlock he could relax a bit knowing he didn't have to constantly be watchful and on guard. He could relax a bit knowing Sherlock would happily share the duty. 'Just when I think Christmas can't get much better, it does...'

He squeezed John’s hand back. ‘It’s not Christmas, yet, John,’ Sherlock replied in a whisper, his voice a low rumble. ‘Don’t forget that there must always be a spectre at the feast, however. A rather large one, come in a sleek black government car,’ he added in his usual haughty baritone voice.

John snorted a giggle lightly elbowing Sherlock in the ribs. 'Just remember that Greg and Mycroft will be the source of gossip and questions, not us.' Sighing happily he squeezed his hand. 'Just nice to be sure that I've been forgiven for everything. At least by your father. Your mother's a bit trickier.' Watching Rosie be scooped up into her grandfather's arms he smiled. 'She's already got him wrapped around her little finger.'

‘Yes, I know. That… dalliance of my brother could not have happened at a better time, I admit. Though it is not the first Christmas you spend here, it is the first we spend together here, as an… item - would that work for you? Too vague, perhaps - and that, I confess, scares me. Until I knew about something more... interesting taking the attention away from us.’ Sherlock walked closer to John, their shoulders touching as if they were teenagers who had only just started dating and could only survive in their partner’s space. ‘What has there been to forgive? It wasn’t your fault Mary was the way she was. Or what her line of work was. Or that she shot me. There isn’t anything to forgive. And before you say anything about Smith,’ he continued more softly, ‘I forgave you. Why wouldn’t they?’

John smiled up at him. 'Sherlock, love, think about it. How willing would you be to forgive someone who hurt Rosie? Would you welcome them back into our home?' Giving his hand another squeeze he smiled. 'I like us. I like being an "item" with you. I like us being us. Very much." Glancing around he grinned before giving Sherlock a quick kiss on the cheek. It wasn't that he cared at all who saw him. He was more concerned how Sherlock might feel about such a public display of affection.

'Assuming they were still alive, then. Unless there were very sound reason, proof and motivation for them to still be around her, none at all,' he replied immediately, his tone deadly serious. 'Which, again, begs the question: why would they? I've forgiven you. You are good to me. I choose to stay with you for sound, logical reasons. I've taken enough weight since you came back to live with me so they know that you do care about me. You make me smile and laugh, John, I fail to see how all these little details could not be proof that you love me and deserve to still be around me. My father clearly has forgiven you, he said so not five minutes ago. My mother is an intelligent, sensible woman of rare perception. Why wouldn't she?’

Shaking his head with a smile he laughed. "I almost feel sorry for whoever Rosie dates. There'll be a consulting detective, a DI, and the bloody government supervising and screening all her dates. That's going to be rough."

He leant into John's frame, hoping to make the brush of his lips on his cheeks last longer. 'I don't know that hand holding with another man in public doesn't show that you are in a homosexual relationship,' Sherlock said. 'Clearly you're not ashamed,' he added cheerfully. 'However if it is all the same to you, I'd rather we not kiss in public. Well, not on the mouth,' he amended. 'We could get a little... carried away, I imagine. And that might be considered... what is the word again? Indecent?' he explained with a large smile.

John chuckled. 'Mm yeah see all that, everything you just said is _exactly_ why I didn't expect to be forgiven. I know I had some part in what Mary did. I think part of it was jealousy.' Snorting he looked up at Sherlock, completely serious. 'I don't care who knows we're together or what they think of it. I'm never going to be ashamed of being with you. Not when you're gorgeous and brilliant and kind. But, yes, I agree we'll have to be careful not to get too carried away. We'll save that for when we're alone.'

Sherlock flushed, not expecting John to bounce off with such seriousness to the idea he had voiced so lightly. Of course he was aware of... everything couples did - he had done an extensive bit of research, as he was wont to - but for John to confirm that they would - no matter the time frame... His brain shut down for a few seconds, utterly terminating any thought processes he might have had. He still didn't understand why John would find him so attractive and much less worthy of attention - rare were those who did, and that was most likely because of family ties.

John chuckled watching Sherlock do the ''blinky thing'' which meant he was processing some bit of data that didn't fit into everything he thought he knew before. 'You really are gorgeous you know. And all the rest, too. All of that and so much more. You're brilliant and fascinating and amazing and every day I thank my lucky stars that I'm with you.'

'John, I -' he started awkwardly, still processing John's last words. They didn't compute with any part of his life. 'Perhaps we should speed up and catch up with my father and Rosie,' he said, choosing to return to a more down-to-earth matter. Safer. 'They must be waiting for us at the car now. We've dawdled long enough,' he concluded, letting go of John's hand and taking his arm as he increased their pace.

Chuckling he nodded letting Sherlock hurry him along. Sometimes it took a while for things to settle into place in that great wonderful brain of his. 'I suppose you're right. I'm sure he's already spoiling her.'

 

            Sure enough Rosie was happily sitting on the bonnet of the car eating an icing covered biscuit and getting crumbs all over her dress. Spotting them she waved with a smile. 'Daddy! Papa! Look!!'

John laughed. 'I see. Good thing there was a snack waiting for you or you might have wasted away to nothing.'

'I can see that, too, Rosie,' Sherlock said smiling. 'John, don't you see? She is leaving crumbs all over her dress so that fairies take her dress to clean it later.'


	6. Holmes, Sweet Holmes.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Arrival to the Holmes' house, introduction of Mrs Holmes, Greg and Mycroft arriving and biscuits.
> 
> As usual, kudos and comments are very much appreciated as they're the feeding to our souls :)

            As Mr Holmes pulled up up in front of the large red house, Rosie smiled. 'Papa house!' Giggling she smiled at Sherlock before eagerly scrambling out of the car in search of the rest of the biscuits she'd been promised. Mrs Holmes met her half way down the path picking her up with a smile.  
'Well I see you had the snack I sent along for you. There's plenty more inside along with some warm milk with a bit of honey in it. Perfect for winter days.' Kissing her cheek she watched John and Sherlock intently, her eyes so much like Sherlock's taking in every detail. Smiling a bit she gave a firm nod. 'Congratulations on finally stopping being so stupid. Come in out of the cold. I'll put the kettle on for tea.'

John blinked. It always took him a moment to adjust to her. She was just as much a force of nature as Sherlock and the resemblance between them was uncanny. 'Uhm yes… Right...' Looking up at Sherlock he shrugged slightly grabbing a couple of the lighter bags.

‘You did say she would see right through us in the blink of an eye,’ Sherlock answered to his shrugging. ‘Hopefully that’s all either of them will say, if Mycroft hasn’t arrived with his bit of news, that is,’ he added thoughtfully. There was no sense in keeping up whatever pretence he had thought of putting up. Still, just like public display of affection, he’d rather keep terms of endearments to private situations. ‘No, dear, let me handle that. You go on in, help with something or another, see to Rosie, have a chat with Mother while I go up to our room and unpack. The essentials,’ he precised.

Rolling his eyes he laughed. 'Right. I see. Leave me alone to be interrogated by her. Ta, love. Don't be too long. I know you don't want to miss when Mycroft and Greg get here and your mum figures them out.' Grinning he kissed his cheek. 'I'll save you a biscuit. Don't be too long, ok.'

Heading to the warm kitchen with Rosie he sat with her at the table while she drank warm milk from a sippy cup.

Sherlock was offended at such a suggestion. Not that John couldn't stand his own but he knew that his mother was intimidating - he'd been told repeatedly by family members that he was much like her in that respect. 'I promise I'll whip the essentials out and be down in… 7 minutes, at the most. You won't suffer my absence too long, will you?' he asked, his expression still a little pained that John would assume he'd rather let the soldier be interrogated alone rather than with him - but a bright light shining in his eyes, a glint of anticipation in his eyes.

Smiling he kissed his cheek. 'Off you go. I'm only half teasing. I'm not completely terrified of her. Rosie's there as a distraction and your dad'll be along soon. Of course I'll miss you until you get back down here. No need to rush. I can hold my own.'

A smile appeared on Sherlock's face. 'I know you can, dear. I'll be back in a moment,' he said trudging up the stairs as if he weren’t carrying anything.

 

            Opening the door to his childhood bedroom, memories resurfaced which he'd rather had remained buried, but he could never help it. He tried not to let them disturb him and proceeded to unpack quickly, making a quick job at removing the fragile items first and delicately putting them on the bed - the snow globe, the candles and a coffee grinder he had found for his father, as well as the mugs John had bought for Lestrade from both of them. He then removed the less fragile gifts - clothes: a beautifully cable-knitted Belstaff jumper in luxurious merino wool, for John obviously. Sherlock hoped John would like the gesture as he knew Sherlock wasn't fond of this particular piece of clothing, which revealed nothing of his lean, muscled body but rather hid everything under unassuming wool and often hideous knitting patterns.

Rosie was to get one more present that even John didn't know anything about. Sherlock had decided to use the interest Rosie had in Disney princesses to discreetly survey the kind of dress she would like to own if she were a princess - which in Sherlock's eyes and no doubt in John's, she was. His enquiries had led him to conclude that a cream ball gown with red laces at the bottom, on the sleeves which would have to be short and a pattern of bees across would please her to no end. He chose to indulge in a pair of matching gloves of the same shade of red.

He took the wrapped snowglobe and tried picturing John revealing this unexpected gift. He found himself unable to. All he could focus on was a growing warmth inside him, happiness at making his… partner… happy and emotional that he simply _had_ this man's heart as his own. And so much more. He sighed loudly, eager to find John again and bask in his adoring eyes and his love.

His father smiled leaning in the doorway. 'It's good to see you so happy. It's been a long time since we've seen you so happy. And looking so well fed too. You've lost that sharp underfed edge that always makes your mother worry. We couldn't be happier. You and John make an excellent couple. And Rosie, well, we're a bit taken with her...' He chuckled.

'What can I say, Father, I am,' he replied, smiling. 'John demands I eat on a regular basis and Rosie - Rosie makes a fuss if I don't. Do not repeat it to anybody, but I think she might be even more… demanding than I ever was when I threw tantrums,' he confided. 'Everyone seems to be taken with her however, tantrums or not,' he added.

He smiled moving into the room. 'There's nothing like a toddler to put priorities into focus. She's quite charming and very sweet natured. I can see the stubbornness in her eyes so I can imagine the tantrums she may throw. Although you don't remember your tantrums.' He chuckled. 'We're very happy for you. And for John. And Rosie as well. It seems that being more settled is good for you. He's good for you. And Rosie. You're all very good for each other.'

'John is without the shadow of a doubt good for me, as is Rosie,' he confirmed. 'I'm not certain that _I_ am, but John is adamant that I am. When you have eliminated the impossible whatever remains however improbable must be true,' he concluded.

Chuckling, his father nodded. 'Exactly right. And you are good for them. John can go off to work and know that Rosie's safe as can be with you. And she gets the benefit of spending time with someone who loves her and teaches her things and always has time for her. I have no doubt you are good for them.'

Sherlock huffed. 'Of course this reasoning is right, Father. And of course Rosie is safe with me. She's a part of John,' Sherlock said his voice gone soft.

He nodded. 'And you're raising her, spending time with her. You will always be part of her, Sherlock. You'll be one of the ones she comes to with everything from skinned knees to broken hearts. You have all the makings of an excellent parent, Sherlock. It's good to see a softer, more open side of you.'

'Not what counts, but I cannot help but wish she really were,' he whispered, hoping his father wouldn't hear him. 'An excellent parent. Me? Father, I think one glass of punch, no matter how discreetly you take it because you know how worried Mother would get if she caught you because of it being too loaded with sugar, is impairing your judgement,' Sherlock teased. 'I suggest we get back down, and find the real excellent parent out of John and I,' he added.

Smiling he squeezed his shoulder. 'It's a learning curve and no parent is perfect. The most important thing is you love her. That matters more than almost anything and everything else. And I've only had half of a small cup of punch. She is and always will be yours in every way that really counts. Family is more than blood, Sherlock,' he reminded him gently.

 

            Rose smiled waving excitedly the minute she saw him come in the kitchen. 'Papa! Bizzycuts! Yum!'

John laughed. 'She's been feeding them to me. Now she's decided that it's your turn to try the excellent ginger biscuits your mother made. Wasn't sure Rosie would like them since they're not really sweet but she loves them.'

Sherlock smiled good heartedly when he saw Rosie so enthusiastic. 'Anything that comes from this kitchen is excellent. Of course she would like them, John,' he replied, smiling warmly to him. He came closer to him to make it easier for Rosie to give him one. He would take any excuse to come close to John.

The minute he was sitting down she climbed over to sit in his lap and feed him bites of the biscuit like John had done for her. 'Mm!' She nodded happily leaning into him.

John laughed. 'You're right about that sweetheart. Don't want to spoil your appetite though. Everything smells amazing.' Shifting slightly he leaned into Sherlock a bit lightly resting a hand on his knee under the table. 'Hope nothing's come up to delay Mycroft from getting here and joining us,' he smirked.

'I suppose he is taking ages to find an outfit that is not too small for him,' Sherlock replied with a smirk of his own, as he pressed his knee against John's relishing having his hand there.

John snickered. 'He'll be so pleased with Rosie's present for him that she picked out all by herself,' he smiled up at Sherlock.

Rosie smiled up at Sherlock. 'Uncle Microsoft?'

John snickered. 'We really shouldn't encourage that...'

'Encourage what?' Sherlock added, all innocence. 'Yes, Rosie darling. You know uncle Microsoft will be there. Or, what's his other little nickname that we practised, you and I?’

'Fat toft?' She blinked up at him. Sometimes it was hard to keep track of all Uncle Mycroft's names.

John squeezed his knee in a gentle reprimand still smiling and shaking his head. 'Sherlock, really? Bit not good, that. She adores Mycroft and he's actually very good with her.'

Sherlock did his best to look chastised, but his tone contradicted his words. 'Sorry. Is he? Well, if you say so, I suppose he is.' He tousled Rosie's hair. 'Your Daddy thinks we shouldn't call uncle Fatcroft that. But he's got other nicknames, hasn't he? Remember that book you wanted me to read on the train...?' he said in a conspiratorial tone.

She nodded. 'Shhh! It a secwet. No tell!'

John laughed. 'Mm well I suppose that one's not too bad. Maybe he'll get a chuckle out of it. At least it's not as bad as most.'

His mother sighed. 'You two should stop the childish insults and try to get along. Especially today. Consider it a Christmas gift to myself and your father. I hope I made enough food. He really should give that assistant of his the day off.' She tsked shaking her head. 'He did imply that he would be bringing someone with him.'

Sherlock smirked. ‘You _always_ cook and bake for a battalion, Mother. We've tried getting along. You know that present would be pure acting - and that level of acting might be the only thing we're not good at,' he added anticipating John's answer when he saw him smirking. 'No, darling,' he told Rosie, 'we're not telling anyone Uncle Mycroft's special nickname,' he said the name with something like petty... resentment, as a child would do to mock their parent's authority.

She sighed with a shrug trying not to smile. 'Well it was worth asking for. I think you two could get along if you really tried and wanted to. I was just hoping for a Christmas miracle. I didn't actually expect one.'

John chuckled shaking his head keeping his voice low. 'Well at least we know someone will be around to keep Mycroft in line. And I think they're here. I heard a car door.'

 

***

 

               Upon hearing these words Mr and Mrs Holmes both turned around and shared a look. Their eldest son had never brought anyone home, let alone for Christmas. Whoever it was he had brought along must be of the highest importance for him. They instantly liked that person. They knew that their sons, despite their difficulty dealing with emotions and other people, would make the soundest choice of companions. Sherlock certainly had - although it had taken him a near decade to realise that he was in fact very much in a romantic entanglement.

Mycroft's would not be any different: perfect for him.

Hearing the car door Rosie peered out the window to see who it was. Spotting Greg she squealed happily. "Unca Gweg!" Scrambling out of Sherlock's lap she toddled full speed to the front door.

John chuckled. 'And now we just sit back and watch things happen. This should be interesting.'

 

            Greg ran a hand through his hair trying to make it stay in place and only succeeding in making it spike up a bit. He nervously ran his hands over his best jumper and shirt. He didn't have much of a wardrobe that fell between what he wore to work and comfortable stuff to lounge about in on his days off and weekends. He'd spent too much on a bottle of wine, completely out of his element and feeling awkward as hell in the high end shop he'd got it at. Mycroft, of course, looked impeccable and perfect. He always did. Glancing over at him he smiled slightly. 'Lovely house.'

Spotting Rosie he grinned scooping her up with one arm. 'Well hello there!' Happily accepting her slightly sticky kiss on his cheek he hugged her close smiling as she waved excitedly at Mycroft.

'Of course, Gregory. Do not fret so much. You are going to have a most enjoyable time at the family house. And the way you look is excellent. There is no need for you to worry,' he added as he caught the glance Greg threw his way. It was obvious he felt uncomfortable, especially considering the nervous tell of him running his hand through his hair. All the time he'd spent preparing in the bathroom in the morning, his efforts would be reduced to naught if he carried on his current worried state. He placed his hand at the small of his back. 'Do not worry, Gregory.’

Mycroft could see some of the tension in Gregory dissipate as he saw a familiar adoring face in the shape of his... Niece. He himself was not going to admit that out loud, but the idea of bringing Gregory to his parents' for Christmas dinner - and probably Christmas, if his mother had her way as she usually had - was... Unnerving. Add to this the constant bickering with Sherlock, with whom he had not the faintest idea how else to interact and he was at a loss. It was best for all parties involved that he held his head up high in all circumstances, and had a stiffer upper lip than usual.

When Rosie waved so excitedly at him, he could however not hold a smile of his own and wave back. 'Good afternoon, lady Rosie,' he greeted her, taking her hand and pressing a kiss on its back. 'I would take you in my arms, but I know your uncle Gregory here needs your support. A charming young lady like yourself will understand how reassuring she can be. I will hold you later, Rosie dearest,' he finished, a warm smile on his face.

'Well, Gregory. I think it's time we went into my parents' lovely house and that I introduce you to them, don't you?' he offered his arm before guiding them along the pathway to the front door.

Greg smiled at him giving Rosie a little bounce. It was so unlike Mycroft to be physically demonstrative. Certainly not when they were in the city. Occasionally when they were behind the closed doors of his posh club or at Mycroft's equally posh house but he hadn't been expecting it here. Not in front of his parents and certainly not in front of Sherlock. 'Always got another surprise, don't you. Just want them to like me, that's all.'

One of Mycroft's eyebrow subtly rose. 'I know they are going to like you. As for demonstrating my affection, you know very well that I am aware that you find it pleasant and reassuring. You are tense. We don't want that. Additionally, there is no other reason than introducing my partner to my parents for me to bring anyone here. I am merely confirming their theory so we can move on to more pressing and important matters.' Mycroft explained.

Greg snickered, shaking his head. 'Yeah, yeah, all right. Thank you for making the effort. I'm sure your parents are lovely people. John's said nice things about them.'

Rosie giggled blowing kisses at Mycroft as she cuddled into Greg.

 

           

            John smiled. 'Greg, good to see you someplace that's not a crime scene or your office. Glad you could make it. Let me help with the bags. I'd offer to take Rosie but I know she'd rather stay where she is.'

Greg chuckled. 'Thanks mate. I didn't bring much. And she's fine where she is. Been a week or so since I last saw my best girl. Missed her.'

Nodding to Mycroft John managed a smile. 'Always good seeing you Mycroft.'

'John,' he nodded back his greeting. He gripped the handle of his umbrella a little more tightly. 'Ah. I believe congratulations are in order, Doctor Watson,' he said in a taut voice which he aimed at expressionless.

John smiled at Mycroft. 'Yeah, well, figured it was about time we got everything sorted out. You know I'll look after him.'

'I have every hope that you do. Properly, this time. But I can see from the way you hold yourself you are going to put every effort into it,' he said, scanning John. 'Shall we go in, Gregory?’

Greg nodded. 'Might as well get the worst over with.'

John chuckled. 'They're fine. Takes a bit of getting used to their mum. She's as blunt and direct as they are. But she's very nice. She'll be happy to meet you after all this time. You saved Sherlock, gave him a purpose and now you're looking after Mycroft. How could they not like you?'

 

            The minute they stepped inside the warm house, Sherlock left his seat under the pretense of looking for something. He was very well aware that neither his parents nor Mycroft were dense and believed him for one second, nonetheless appearances had to be held. He had to keep it together -seeing Greg on his own was bad enough but seeing his brother… _reading_ him was another matter entirely. He knew that John would not want him to be any more obnoxious than he usually was with his brother, and he was not about to displease him. Certainly not now that... He had seen John throw a quick glance at him as he got up. He was smarter than he looked.

Rosie watched him get up wiggling in Greg's arms. 'Down.' The minute she was down she toddled after Sherlock. 'Papa story an' bizzycuts?'

Greg smiled watching her. 'Seems she's getting pretty good at taking care of him too. Always nice seeing you, John.'

 

Mr. Holmes smiled warmly greeting Mycroft and Greg. 'Come in, come in. Lunch is almost ready. Greg, a pleasure to finally meet the man who's made such a difference in the lives of both my sons.'

Greg shook his hand warmly cheeks a bit pink. 'Yeah, well, I'm just lucky enough that I was in the right place at the right time to help Sherlock and then meet Mycroft.'

 

John slipped away quietly taking Sherlock a mug of tea. 'You ok?'

Sherlock jumped when he heard John's voice. He had not expected him to follow. 'Yes. Fine. Fine. Fine. Fine,' he replied uttering the same word in an inflection less and less convincing and more and more panicked.

John gently pulled him close rubbing his back. 'Hey. Hey, now. It's ok. I'm right here. Mycroft's fine. You know how he is. Of course he knows we sorted things out. He knows I'm going to take care of you and love you and everything will be ok. Greg's nervous as a cat in a room of rocking chairs. Rosie helped a bit but she was more worried about you. Isn't that right sweetheart?'

Rosie nodded arms wrapped around Sherlock's legs. 'Papa, up?' She let go briefly holding her arms up to him.

Sherlock gave a faint smile. 'Yes, Rosie. Up you go. Give Papa a hug. I wish I could turn these off. Seeing Greg is difficult enough as he barely ever conceals anything, but the pair of them together...' Sherlock barely suppressed a shudder. 'You deduced it was all bravado when I told Mycroft that... s - e - x...' he spellt the word, almost mouthing it for the sake of Rosie 'didn't alarm me, I presume?' Sherlock asked John, his voice just above a whisper.

Rosie snuggled into him patting his chest gently. 'Love Papa.'

John smiled rubbing his arm gently. 'It's ok. Just try not to think about it. Try not to deduce anything about them. Just focus on Rosie and how excited she's going to be and how much your brother's going to love his present from her.' Gently he smoothed Sherlock's curls. 'It doesn't need to alarm you. We'll work through everything. Together.'

Sherlock held her close. 'Papa loves you, too.’ He gave a weak smile to John, leaning into the touch. 'I know. Together. I'll... keep a straight face. For you. For Rosie.' His words caught in his throat. 'But, John, I - I think... I need to stop thinking. I can only do that with you. I can't...,' he whispered, a small, broken sob escaping his lips.

John wrapped an arm around him. 'It's ok love. You're ok. How about you grab Rosie's story book and settle in the kitchen with the rest of us and read to her. You can sit over in the corner where you won't be so in the middle of things. Keeping her occupied will be a good distraction from deducing anything about Greg and your brother.'

'Yes. John. I will. I'm sorry. I can't stop myself from _seeing_ , from rem - NO!' he exclaimed. 'I will not...' Looking at John with lost eyes he searched for his eyes, deposited a kiss on his cheek. 'You're right. As you so often are. I'll read to Rosie. And focus... focus on how delighted she is and will be when she - when presents happen.’

John nodded. 'Focus on reading her a story and having lunch together. Focus on how much fun she's going to have opening all of her presents. Just enjoy spending time with Rosie. Nothing else matters, ok.' He stroked his cheek gently. 'It's going to be fine.'

'Kiss me, John. Dear. My dear. Please. I need your strength,' he pleaded. 'I will do as you recommend, it is the best course of action, but... I need your strength.’

Cupping his cheek he kissed him sweetly stroking over his cheek with his thumb. 'I'm here. I'm right here. And I'll be sitting right by you. I'll even be holding your hand if it helps.'

Sherlock leaned into John's touch once more and chuckled. 'Are you sure you wouldn't rather enjoy the show of Mother questioning Greg? Your presence would help, of course. But...I will keep to myself. Not let transpire that anything is amiss. I will need... support, that is a certainty, but we must play our cards right,' Sherlock explained, his brain shifting into acting gear. 'None of them believed my subtle leaving of the room, did they?’

John smiled. 'They will when you come back with Rosie's story book and her bee. Someone's probably getting a little restless for lunch time. Even though she's been stuffing herself with your Mum's biscuits since the train.' He stroked Sherlock's cheek softly. 'I'll be right there. Still close enough to enjoy the interrogation. We're going to be fine. I promise.'

'In any case, we should get back. As you said, lunch time for Rosie is approaching and for us as well, I expect. Well, then. into battle,' he said, steeled resolve in his voice as he took Rosie's bee and story book.

Rosie smiled hugging her bee. 'Papa bee!' It was her favourite toy. She's grabbed it the second Sherlock had offered it to her and rarely let it go. 'Lunch?' She patted his cheek. 'Papa lunch wif Wosie.'

John smiled. 'Yes sweetheart. You and Papa will have lunch and he'll read to you and Bee.'

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> that's the jumper I had in mind - that's when subscriptions to such expensive brands come in handy xD  
> https://www.nordstromrack.com/shop/product/2430942/belstaff-halmesdale-cable-knit-merino-wool-sweater?color=BEIGE


	7. Into Battle.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Banter gone bad, a scolding by Mummy and a promise.

All three of them went back into the dining room where there was a little... awkward chatter. Greg was trying to find things to say to evidently make a good impression, but was so far failing at telling interesting anecdotes. He had already won both his parents over, Mother had that unambiguous, yet subtle look of approval - he had apparently inherited the same with his habit of giving a smile, nearly a smirk when John did something he approved of. ‘Let’s seat there, Rosie. I’ll start reading to you. What story do you want, now?’ Sherlock asked as they settled on the sofa at the far end of the room, pretending that everything was fine. ‘Are you becoming hungry, little princess?’ he asked her playfully. ‘Is she becoming hungry, Bee Esquire?’ he asked her plush in much the same tone.

Rosie snuggled against his chest. "Lunch pease. Me an' Bee an' Papa lunch pease." Patting the book she pointed at Belle. "Belle."

Sherlock gave a small chuckle of his own. ‘Belle. Evidently. You are quite taken with her, aren’t you? The best Disney Princess, I’m sure,’ he said before he pressed a kiss to her curly hair and started reading to her.

John smiled bringing Rosie a sippy cup of juice. 'To hold her highness over until her plate's ready. I'll bring you some of your mum's spiced cider.' He kissed Sherlock's cheek gently.

 

Greg forced a smile. This was horrible. It was all horrible. He was failing miserably. He hadn't done this sort of thing since he was a teenager and he was very out of practice. Glancing at John he silently begged for help. He didn't want to embarrass Mycroft or make him have second thoughts about their still fairly new relationship.

Mycroft was silently distraught. He could very well see that Gregory was struggling. He had no idea how to make him stop doubting everything. Talking would add nothing more but awkwardness and he’d be even less confident. He came closer to him and placed a reassuring hand on his arm. He bent down to his ear and whispered. ‘Do not fret, Gregory. You’re doing marvellously. Carry on. Shine, for me,’ he added, his voice so low that he knew no one but Greg heard.

Greg huffed. "Easier said than done. I'm trying and it's not going very well. _At all_!"

 

Sherlock saw movement on his left and turned his head. Seeing his brother getting close to his… paramour, he blanched. It seemed so easy. But his own heart was racing so fast he was certain the whole room could hear it. He turned paler. Focus on Rosie. Focus on the story. Do the voices. Call for help. ‘John,’ he asked after having cleared his throat. ‘Is her Highness’ plate quite ready? I fear we need your presence here.’ He hoped his choice of words would not fall on deaf ears, but that only John would hear his… distress.

John smiled bringing over a small plate for Rosie and a bigger one for him and Sherlock to share. It was usually easier to get Sherlock to eat if he was picking off his plate. 'Mm coming, love, coming.' Settling beside Sherlock he nudged Sherlock's knee with his own. 'Breathe. You're ok. See, Greg's happy. Nervous as hell, but happy. Happier than I've ever seen him. Try not to deduce. Just read,' he murmured soothingly.

 

Mr. Holmes smiled. 'We're always hearing about the interesting cases you're involved in from John's blog. I'm sure there are many other cases that he hasn't written about. Violet and I can never thank you enough for everything you've done for Sherlock. And Mycroft too.'

Greg smiled shrugging a bit. 'Well they're pretty interesting. Never a dull moment with those two around. Then add in John and Rosie and life's interesting.'

‘I hear one is ‘never bored’ when living with a Holmes. Actually, I heard that quite some time ago. In your own living room John, if you recall,’ Mycroft said not taking his hand off Greg’s arm but instead placing a firmer hold on it. Mycroft, though focussed on Greg, could not miss the evident uneasiness his brother was in. He wondered what brought this on.

John chuckled. 'Never a dull moment with Sherlock and a toddler. I never know when my plans for making the 'thing with peas' for dinner is going to be overruled and we end up at Angelo's or that little hole in the wall Thai place that I can never find. I think it exists only for Sherlock,' he teased gently.

 

Greg chuckled. 'He's always had that talent. He'd just wander down what I would swear was a blind alley and we'd end up in some amazing little restaurant that knew him on sight and shoved mountains of food at us in some language I'll never understand.'

Mycroft smiled. 'See? You are doing just fine, Gregory,' he murmured. 'John,  you are mistaken. This 'talent' of his is simply the result of his... wandering the city, so much so that he knows it by heart. Every crook and alley. There is nothing spectacular in that. Not much,' he amended when his mother threw him a reproachful look.

John crossed his arms giving Mycroft a half glare. 'Well, I think it's remarkable. I've followed him all over the city I don't know how many times and he's still finding new places that I had no idea even existed. It's a gift.' He nudged Sherlock's leg. 'A damn useful one.' Sherlock smirked at John's comment and regained some of his colours. Mycroft held his hands up.

Greg chuckled. 'Incredibly when it's the middle of the night in the middle of nowhere and you're sure there's no chance anything is open and five minutes later you're having some of the best food in your life.'

'I dare hope the food I'm treating you with is of as high a quality, Gregory,' Mycroft remarked.

Greg smiled leaning into Mycroft slightly. 'There will never be a time I turn down the spectacular steak and chips at your club. Even if they do hate lowering their standards to make chips for me. I do like that truffle oil though. Gives it a different taste. That and the exotic salts they put on them.'

John smiled. 'Rosie and I never get tired of Sherlock's mystery dinner adventures. She's tried food from all over the world and loves it. Didn't that lovely woman from the Indian place we were at last week say she was going to be making Rosie a sari?'

'She did. But we won't be repeating that or she'll be sure to demand it. That would not do for any proper lady. Even if she does live with, well, me,' he added.

'And yet she has not turned into a dreadful demanding child as we all - as I - might have thought, Brother mine.' Taking heed of his mother's warning glares, he quickly added. 'I am quite certain she will grow to become a wonderful, adorable person under your and John's care.’

John smiled. 'She adores Sherlock and Sherlock adores her. She's going to be multi lingual. She's already learning several French words and Sherlock's teaching her things in Latin and I think ancient Greek from what I remember from med school. And who knows how many other languages. I couldn't be more proud of them.'

Sherlock smiled proudly and took John's hand in his. _Oh. I did that. Well that is certainly… interesting_. 'Oh, John. You don't want to know how many languages she'll learn. Far easier from a young age, but I can see that she is far more receptive than any other children.'

John smiled kissing his cheek. 'The more the better. She enjoys learning new words and the way you make a game of it with different languages is something she loves.'

Greg chuckled. 'If anything she gets spoiled when she comes to the station. Everyone scrambling all over themselves to say hello or have her sit at their desk for a bit or give her some little something.'

'Really, Gregory,' Mycroft said with feeble disapproval. Allowing a toddler into New Scotland Yard and on crime scenes... I might not be the most...qualified person to talk about children but it seems to me that this is not a good idea, if her father does not want her to...go astray.’

Greg rolled his eyes with a snort. 'She comes to the _office_. Never around any pictures and Molly always knows in advance if she's coming so there's nothing in the lab to scare her. And the few times she's been on a crime scene she's been safely settled in my car with a movie to keep her occupied. Give me a little credit for keeping my goddaughter out of harm's way,' he gave Mycroft a glare, snapping a bit.

'Goddaughter? You - I wasn't aware,' Mycroft said. 'Apologies. I didn't mean to offend you.'

Greg nodded. 'Honorary but all the same I'd never do anything that would put that little angel in harm's way. Is it ideal she be at a crime scene? No. Not ideal for any child. But given who she is, it's going to happen. The best I can do is put her somewhere safe, out of the way.'

'Seems to me you've got things to learn, Brother mine. Everything cannot be... bought off or dismissed when in a partnership. No matter how other... areas might prove satisfying,' sneered Sherlock. He hadn't liked the comment Mycroft had made about leading Rosie astray, it hit too close to home. 'Sorry, Greg,' he amended as he saw the look John gave him.

John smirked nudging Sherlock's foot gently. There was no need to let things get too out of control. 'I trust Sherlock and Greg with Rosie completely. I always will.'

'How would _you_ know, Sherlock?' Mycroft retorted.

He held his hands up again when he saw the look of utter shock and disappointment in everyone but Sherlock. Sherlock's face had gone back to being blank. He had not seen his brother so upset for some time and he had hoped it never happen again.

'Sorry. I apologise. I didn't think - I'm sorry. Please excuse me,' he said on his way to leave the room.

 

Rosie kissed Sherlock's cheek. 'Papa? Eat? Pease.' She scooped up a bit of fluffy mashed potato on her princess spoon holding it up to him.

Sherlock absent-mindedly opened his mouth - ever so slightly. He was not hungry. He was not good. He was not a good role model. Not a good person. How would he know about anything that had to do with human nature? Or human relationships, for that matter? He'd been informed countless times how unworthy he was.

Rosie's lip wobbled and her large eyes filled with tears. 'Papa? Shlock?'

John took Sherlock's hand kissing it gently. 'It's ok, love, come back to me. Just your brother being your brother. It's ok. Greg and I are on your side. I trust you with Rosie. Who did I come to when I was at my lowest and thought I might be putting her at risk? I brought her to you.'

Greg sighed rubbing his head. 'And Happy Christmas. Sorry...'

Violet patted his shoulder. 'Don't you worry. I'll have a bit of a chat with my eldest. The rest of you eat before Rosie becomes upset.' Dusting invisible crumbs off her skirt she followed Mycroft.

 

 

'Well I like him. I can see why you do too.'

'Mother,' Mycroft said his voice expressing more regret than ever. 'My feelings for Gregory are much deeper than that, as I'm certain you are aware. How is Sherlock?' he asked, still shocked at his own outburst and concerned for the state he had put his brother in.

She sighed wiping her hands on a tea towel. 'You need to go back in there and speak to your brother and at least attempt to undo the damage you've just done. Mycroft...' Tsking she shook her head giving him a withering look. 'That was beyond rude and uncalled for. You insulted two of the people you care most for by suggesting they'd let harm come to Rosie or be bad influences. They both deserve quite an apology. That little girl has done wonders for Sherlock. You should be ashamed of yourself.'

Mycroft looked chastised. He knew his mother was always blunt and that it was a trait both he and Sherlock had inherited, but he had not been on the receiving side of her glare, a mix of hurt, disapproval and anger for a very long time. Sherlock had. 'I am. Ashamed. Of course, I am, Mother. Of course I know that Rosie has... brought a rather positive change to Sherlock - although I'm fairly certain Doctor Watson helped in that regard as well. And I'm glad he did. He does. Mother...' for the first time in decades Mycroft looked like a lost boy, looking for help and guidance -and was feeling it, too. He had learnt that the best way to get Mother's help was to be honest with her. He let all his walls crumble. 'How do I make it better?’

She sighed fingers deftly smoothing a bit of his hair, so like his father's once brilliant ginger, off his forehead. 'Ohhh Mycroft...' she shook her head. 'You need to apologize. To all of them. And I would think a few words with Sherlock would help. In front of everyone so that he knows you mean it and want us all to know it. You've set your brother back a ways. Thankfully he has John here to help him. And Rosie. And Greg. Your opinion always has, and always will, mean everything to him. You need to fix this.'

‘I know. I want to. What if... What if I do it... wrong? And send him even further back?’ He reviewed his mother's words for a moment. 'Words... with Sherlock... Heartfelt words...? I don't know how to do that... I might have. A very long time ago, but…’ 

'You still do. He needs you, Myc. He needs his big brother to say that he's proud of him and everything he's done, how far he's come, how brilliant he is, how much you care for him, how good he is with Rosie. Any of that, all of that. Remember when he was little and was afraid of the summer storms? You'd sit with him wrapped up in quilts and talk to him so gently until he wasn't afraid anymore. Do that for him again.'

'Things have changed. There were not… people around us then. Listening. I will try, Mother, of course I will,' he said as he made his way back into the dining room.

 

***

 

            When he entered he could only feel that the happy atmosphere had changed, loaded with hurt and anguish. _I have to make this right_ he thought as he saw Sherlock, as pale as he used to be when he... John was huddled against him, soothingly talking to him. Rosie was on the verge of crying, and the dam would not last long. Gregory was refusing to meet his gaze. His father...His father had come to sit close to Sherlock, another familial reassuring presence _I did that. It is time to own up to my mistakes_. He walked up to Gregory first and took his hand before turning his head to force him to meet his gaze. He needed him to see how sorry he was. 'I am sorry, Gregory. It wasn't my intention to discredit you. To imply you would let anything untoward happen to Rosie. Or anyone else here. I trust you, Gregory. I - I love you,' he whispered. 'Please, forgive me. Or try to, at least. You know I didn't mean any of these awful things I said.’

'You know I will but I'm not the one you need to talk to most right now. And I'd try and make it quick if I were you. Rosie's working herself into quite a state because Sherlock's.... well...' He gestured at him. 'And I'm not angry. Disappointed. You two need to put this petty shit aside and behave like adults for Rosie's sake if nothing else.'

Mycroft nodded. 'I'm sorry. I'll er,' he gestured toward Sherlock and walked toward him, his umbrella offered him little support in this case. He bent down on his knees to be of height with everyone on the sofa. He glanced at his father, to muster the courage to speak. He gave him a slight nod. John had set a wary eye on him the moment he approached. Ever the soldier, protective of his own. Sherlock, however... Sherlock was staring at nothing. He was breathing too fast. 'Sherlock,' he whispered. 'Listen to me, please. I apologise. I never meant what I said. Never meant to call you callous. Or dangerous. Sherlock? Yellowbeard?' he asked once more, hoping to elicit some sort of answer from his brother. He seemed to snap out of his fugue, but he was clearly not alert yet. It did not have any sort of importance. He would do as his mother had reminded him. Talk to him gently until he wasn't afraid anymore.

Rosie huffed using one small foot to push at him. 'No. Bad Mycrosoft.' She pouted arms crossed over her chest and looking very much like John when he was very cross.

John held Sherlock's hand. 'It's ok love. We know you're not any of that. So does your brother. He's a prick and shoves his foot in his mouth when it comes to you. It's ok love. I'm right here.'

'Sherlock, I never meant to hurt you. I am immensely proud of my little brother. Look at everything you have achieved. Your past never brought you down. It made you stronger. You met John. You have a family. Of your own. You're not only the son of two extraordinary persons and the brother to a less than commendable one, you have your own husb-partner, and your own daughter. You have achieved so much in the last 10 years, even more so in the ever so positive company of John. Sherlock. Brother dearest. I couldn't be any more proud of you. Ever. Please. Forgive me. Forgive what I said. That was extremely rude, and mean and uncalled for. I never meant to imply that your presence, that you raising such a fair child would ever lead her to go astray. How could it? You love her to the ends of the earth and back. Sherlock. Please. Look at me.’

John squeezed Sherlock's hand. 'It's ok love. He's trying. He's really trying. That means a lot. He was a rude arse and shouldn't have said any of that. Even Rosie's giving him a piece of her mind. I need you to come back to me, ok. Rosie's worried. She needs to know Papa is ok.'

Sherlock locked icy eyes with Mycroft. 'You will never say anything like that ever again,' he declared, anger fuming. ‘Don't ever imply I would let **_anything_** happen to my family. I will fight teeth and nails for them. I already did, even if at the time, only John was my family. Or have you forgotten that **_you_** sent me down that path?'  
He unlocked his glare from Mycroft and took Rosie in his arms 'Papa's alright. Papa is here. Don't worry, darling,' he said soothingly, passing a hand through her curls - rather similar to his own. 'John. John. John. I will **_never_** let anything bad befall you. **_Never_**. I swore it once, I will swear it again. If you'll let me,' he added.

John kissed his cheek gently blinking back tears. 'I know, love, I know you wouldn't. When I was at my lowest. Every time I've been at my lowest it's _you_ I've turned to because I knew you could fix it. When I was so exhausted and grieving and drinking too much where did I bring Rosie? Straight to you. Where I knew she'd be safe while I got my shit together. That's what people who love each other do. They take care of each other and help each other when they're at their lowest. That's love.'

Rosie sniffled burying her face against his neck arms tightly wound around his neck. 'Papa no sad. No go bye bye.'

Sherlock held her close. 'That's up to your Daddy, darling. I don't plan on leaving. I love your Daddy very much. John, dear... language, please?' he asked in a low enough voice that Rosie wouldn't hear, and in such a harmless tone that he knew John would not think he was being critical.

John huffed. 'Well excuse me for being a little... put out... at the moment. You know I don't like when you're upset because of what someone's said. Especially him.'

Greg snorted with a smug grin. 'Yeah and then you go and do stupid things like chin the chief superintendent.'

'Well, he called Sherlock a weirdo and I wasn't about to just stand there and let it happen. Not when he built his reputation on cases Sherlock and you solved,' he grumbled.

'I for one thought this moment one of the finest of John's, Greg,' he said smirking.

John chuckled with a shrug. 'Maybe not one of my personal best but I'll never regret standing up for people who are important to me. Like Sherlock. Like Greg. Like Rosie.'

Rosie held on to Sherlock tightly still sniffly and worried. 'Papa stay. All stay. Papa, Daddy, Wosie, Nana. Fambwy.'

John rubbed her back gently. 'That's right my little love. We're family. You, me, Papa, and Nana Hudson.'

'There you see, Rosie darling? I am not leaving. Let's apply some logic here. You always find that reassuring, don't you? Clever girl. You and your Daddy stay together. Because you are family. Your Daddy does not want me to leave - nor is it my desire to. I will not leave. You, Daddy and Papa are going to stay together. Nana Hudson is not going to leave either, darling. She owns the flat we are living in. And she adores you all to bits. Why would she leave? There is no logical reason she would. All four of us will stay together as a family,' he concluded in a calm voice, rubbing his own hand in small circles on Rosie's back, brushing against John's.

Settling with his calming voice she nodded slowly staying pressed close. 'All stay. No go,' she repeated softly a few times.

John tickled her gently earning a faint giggle. 'That's my girl.'

Mycroft was still crouched in front of Sherlock. His brother’s dangerously calm, faintly veiled threat had not made him scuttle. ‘I am sorry to put you all through… this,’ he said, contrite. ‘I had not meant any of the things I said, I’m sorry I lashed out. Rosie, your Daddy, your Papa and Mrs Hudson are your family, but I - I consider you family, too. Sherlock is my brother, and John and you - you are the best thing that happened to him. Please forgive me,’ he declared, his voice trembling a little under the strain of emotion, searching for Greg’s approval or his father’s, for Sherlock and John’s forgiveness.

John sighed, squeezing Sherlock's hand. 'I'm willing to forgive you for Sherlock and Greg's sake. You've crossed a line Mycroft. I've forgiven it, looked the other way, ignored it, too many times. If Sherlock can turn things around and be a better person then so can you. Unless you're willing to admit that he's more capable of change and becoming a better person than you are.'

Greg sighed. 'I should be a hell of a lot madder at you, you know. You've got to change some things. Sherlock's realized that some of the changes are really for the better. They've made him a better person. They could make you a better person too, if you'd just give it a shot.'

 

Mycroft held himself like a defeated man. That alone showed how remorseful he was feeling. He knew that what he'd done - said - was wrong and more than a little hurtful. He was willing to try and change for the sake of Gregory's love and for everyone's forgiveness, especially Sherlock's. John knew him well, he knew both of them well. When he'd opposed their abilities to change, he _knew_ he was hitting a nerve, and he knew that would work. He nodded, head dropped low.

'I will change. I am not... Certain what needs to change, exactly, but I swear I will. Sherlock, I hope that you can forgive me,' he said, reaching his hand out to Sherlock's knee. 'I was there for you before. You know you can count on me.’

John held Sherlock's hand stroking over it with his thumb and letting him process everything while letting him know he had full support. He hoped Mycroft could change. That he could unthaw a little bit. Maybe being in a relationship with Greg, having someone to love and who loved him would help. He hoped so. For Sherlock's sake.

Sherlock was still sitting with Rosie in his arms, but he was no longer throwing daggers at Mycroft. He knew how much showing his emotions here, in this context, with witnesses to his weakness cost him. He had been there as well. And now...Now, there were more important things to deal with.

‘Fine. On one condition. When the time comes, I want you to put the silly paper crown on. And keep it.’ He was still very upset, but hoped his condition would be enough to bring some good ambiance back into Christmas dinner. Because Christmas dinner obviously started at almost 2pm in the Holmes family.

John snorted a laugh the corners of his eyes crinkling at the thought. "And there **will** be pictures. You have my word they won't be shown to anyone unless you pull another stunt like today." A little bit of friendly blackmail never hurt when dealing with Mycroft.

 

Mycroft frowned. How... could his brother give him such an easy... way out? No retribution?

'Anything. I'll even play... the red man driving the sleigh for the years to come, if you want me to. Anything if you'll forgive me.'

'Oh, but that seemed a given, Mycroft. Your… build is more suited to that type of role than mine, wouldn't you think?' he replied, aiming for mischievous, but his tone was not quite in it.

John nodded with a grin. 'It would mean so much to Rosie. Definitely next year when she'd be a little more aware. What a wonderful memory for her to have in years to come, her favourite uncle dressing up as the man in red for Christmas.'

Greg snorted trying not to laugh. 'I think you'll look handsome in it. Red does suit you. You know I like that one red tie of yours.'

Sherlock groaned. 'Greg, please. Don't... mentally scar me,' he replied, his tone a half joke. 'As for this year, I think she'll be aware enough to remember… bits and pieces. Especially if there are photographs,' he concluded with a wicked grin towards John. 'And Rosie's nickname would be perfect for the occasion, wouldn't you say my darling?' he asked, his voice low enough so that no one but John and Rosie heard him.

'Most amusing, John,' Mycroft replied, as he went a bright shade of red at Gregory's comment. 'Yes, it... hasn't escaped my notice that you did, Gregory.’

 

Rosie leaned into Sherlock looking up at him and occasionally looking over at Mycroft skeptically and looking at Greg like she was trying to understand why he was touching Uncle Mycroft. Grown-ups were funny things.

John nodded. 'What she doesn't remember will be reinforced by the stories and pictures and will seem like a memory.' He made a slight face. 'Greg, mate, please, on the list of things I do _not_ need to know. You made me promise not to tell you things. You have to promise not to tell me things. For the sake of our friendship.'

Greg chuckled, nodding. 'It's a deal. I'll do my best. You know, we should have a code word for when there's just no understanding a Holmes.'

Sherlock smiled. ‘Considerably reinforced, I might add. ‘What do you find strange there, Rosie darling?’ he asked, puzzled.

Huffing a bit she wrapped one of his arms a bit tighter around her, something she did when she was thinking hard and trying to make sense of things. 'Uncle Mycrosoft an' Uncle Gweg? Kissy face?'

John snorted, giggling. 'Yes sweetheart. Just like Papa and I do. It's a good thing. It makes them happy. Uncle Mycroft promises not to break Uncle Greg's heart.'

'And if ever Uncle Mycrosoft steps one toe out of line and does... something not good, Papa will have a very... stern chat with him. And I imagine that Father and Mother will have a say in this, as well,' he added fixing a harsh glare on his brother. 'Come to think of it, Mother, I thought you would be more… inquisitive,' he said a questioning tone in his voice. 

She gave a slight shrug. 'And I would have been but that is not how things for the day have turned out. Now, I strongly suggest that we at least try to salvage the rest of the day and enjoy dinner before it gets cold. Because there is still much to be done today and I don't think the weather is getting any better.'

Mycroft got up, looking as chastened as could be. He took a few steps back to Gregory and kept his eyes on the floor as Sherlock got up from the sofa, Rosie in his arms.

‘Yes, I suppose we should. It won’t be hardship to enjoy dinner, Mother. One of your sons is proof enough of that,’ Sherlock joked, eyeing Mycroft. ‘And I daresay your… Rosie here will do much to do your skills justice,’ he added, bending to place a kiss on her cheek. ‘Father? Will you need… help for something or another?’ he asked as he saw his father get up and take the direction of the stairs.

He smiled. 'If you don't mind passing Rosie off for a moment I was going to get the high chair brought in. I put a fresh coat of paint on it just for Rosie. And your mother made a lovely cushion for the seat and the back.'

John took Rosie bouncing her gently. 'Hear that sweetheart, you get a very special high chair. Look outside. It's starting to snow. After we eat, Papa and I will take you out and play in it. Then we'll open presents.'

'I am absolutely certain you will enjoy playing in the snow. There are so many features of interest when it comes to snow. I'm certain you can hardly wait to discover that part, darling,' he said as he followed suit trudging up behind his father to retrieve the high chair.

Rosie pressed her hands against the window eyes going wide as she watched the large fluffy flakes drift from the sky. 'Ooooo... Shnow...' John nodded. 'Yeah. Pretty, isn't it. You'll have fun playing in it later. Good think I packed your warmer coat.'

'Pretty! Yes, John, that's one way of describing snow. Fascinating is another. Rosie, darling, you'll sit at the seat of honour,' Sherlock said, placing the high chair as he'd been asked to. 'Ah! This Christmas is going to be full of features of interest, I am certain of it!' He blushed deeply as John threw an appreciative glance at him. 'And Christmas would not be Christmas without... things,' he quickly added, dashing away to the stairs.

Rosie giggled, patting her hands on the tray of the high chair. 'Kissymas!!'  
John laughed kissing her cheek 'That's my silly girl. Look how pretty you are sitting there in Papa's old chair. What do you say for all the hard work that went into making it nice for you?'

Rosie smiled, blowing kisses at her grandparents. 'Fank oooo!'

 

 

Greg squeezed Mycroft's shoulder. 'I know that wasn't easy. Thank you. I promise I'll show you my appreciation later,' he kept his voice low.

Mycroft didn't know how to answer Gregory's promise. He simply nodded, cheeks flamed. 'Thank you, Gregory,' he said, taking his wrist, his pulse to find it... interestingly elevated.

Greg smirked raising a brow slightly the _I-dare-you-to-deduce-what-I'm-thinking-and-feeling-right-now_  look clear. Lightly wrapping his fingers around Mycroft's wrist he smiled. 'Your parents are… nice… and… _normal_...'

'Yes, and you find that… reassuring, I assume. I am not about to have you think otherwise. As for your… other… thoughts… Best… not voice them here,' he  whispered, breaching Gregory's personal space, a mere fraction so as not to appear too...

Greg smiled tugging Mycroft close. There was one advantage to those ridiculous ties he always insisted on wearing. They made for something to pull on to steal a kiss. Kissing him lightly he rested his head against Mycroft's. 'They're wonderful and if I find out you're avoiding them whenever they're in town, I will go out to dinner with them and beg to see the hundreds of naked baby pictures of you that I'm sure exist,' he smirked. John wasn't the only one who could blackmail.

Mycroft looked mildly affronted. 'You wouldn't do that.'

There was a soft thud in the corridor. 'Well, that's everything. I'll leave you to cover it, Father, if you don't mind?'  
'Oh, no, Mycroft. He wouldn't have to beg, that's certain. Asking will be quite sufficient,' Sherlock said, a playful smirk on his lips. Sherlock tousled Rosie's hair. 'You certainly made very nice additions to Rosie's chair, Mother,' Sherlock said, as Rosie who was immensely enjoying the high chair - and the view it gave her to everything. She was fascinated, watched everyone and everything, especially the snow. She did eye Sherlock suspiciously when he re-entered the room, clearly acting as if nothing was the matter.

Greg smiled with a shrug. 'Well why don't we not ever test that theory. It's one thing if it's a real emergency or a meeting that took six months to schedule and would take six more to reschedule. I understand that. But if you just want to avoid them, not happening.'

Mycroft sighed. 'Very well. I shall not actively try to avoid… familial meetings when in your company. Does it meet your expectations, Gregory?' he asked recovering his more formal, well-educated way of speaking.

Greg smiled nodding. 'Yeah. It suits me just fine. Meets my expectations. Despite a few bumps, I'd say this is all going very well.'

 

John slid his arm around Sherlock's waist gently hugging him close. 'You ok, love? Never thought I'd see the day your brother apologized for being an arse.'

'Hm? Oh, yes. I am. Thank you. John. Language?’

John smiled at Rosie. 'She really is enjoying it. You two put in so much work on it. It's lovely. I know she'll love using it when she's here.' He looked up at Sherlock. 'It'd be nice, don't you think. Every few months spend a weekend here. Rosie would love it. I know your parents would.'

'I was merely contemplating... features of interest. What you would consider as features of interest, and why I did not… quite consider these in the same way,' he added pensively. 'But anyway. Christmas! Rosie will already enjoy being here this time around, let us try not to get ahead of ourselves? Let's just… see how much she enjoys it here, how much good it does her and me,' he added under his breath, 'before we start thinking of the months ahead. Wouldn't you agree, dear? We cannot… theorise without facts,' he concluded.

John chuckled. 'Just thinking things through, that's all. It'd be nice for her and for them. Besides, we could maybe leave her here with them and have a day or two that's just us. Stay at a little bed and breakfast nearby. Might be nice.'

'What's funny?' he asked genuinely confused but not in the least interested in leaving John's light, reassuring embrace. 'Are you planning to… try and elope with me?' he asked, turning around to read his face, one eyebrow quirked up at him.

'You. Just you, love. You're funnier than you think or know. It's charming.' He gently pulled him a little closer. 'And, no, not exactly planning on eloping. Just a nice weekend away. No crimes, no experiments, no criminals. Just us. We could sleep in, have a lazy morning, go for a walk by the water. Whatever else we feel like doing, or not doing.'

'That was very specific,' Sherlock replied, chuckling. 'wouldn't... That sort of calm weekend be a bit... Boring? You and I both know that you are... Attracted... to dangerous situations. And we can still go for a walk by the water in Hyde Park. It's a large enough park,' Sherlock finished matter-of-factly.

'Missing the point.' John chuckled shaking his head. 'For a genius you can be a bit thick sometimes. You. Me. Alone. At a bed and breakfast. All the time in the world to focus on each other,' he explained slowly, waiting for the wheels to start turning and Sherlock to realize what he meant.

And Sherlock turned bright red. 'You - you mean...? You would - want...? _Oh._ ’ There was an eloquent pause. 'Really, John. This is hardly the time or the place for a... situation to arise,' he whispered.

John gave a half shrug looking completely innocent. 'Mm yeah. Sorry.' His look said he really wasn't sorry at all. If it distracted Sherlock from over analysing Mycroft's words and how sorry he truly was, then it was worth it.

'You are a terrible liar, John,' Sherlock said, shaking his head. 'We will have to train these barely existing skills,' he continued. 'I will teach you,' he promised.

John smiled. 'Mm you're more than welcome to _try_. Not sure how much luck you'll have but at least it'll be interesting. Maybe I'll teach you a few things too.'

'Now you're making the situation worse,' Sherlock complained half-heartedly.

John smiled. 'Mm I may not be making things any better but you're enjoying it. I can tell. And that sounds like a lovely afternoon. Playing in the snow, hot chocolate, presents.'

'Be that as it may, dear, and you will hear no arguments from me on that score, but we need to start eating before the afternoon can... Unfold,' he said placing a soft kiss on his cheek.

Rosie waved at him. 'Papa! Shnow!!' Outside the snow had picked up considerably.

'Yes, snow, Rosie. _Snow_. We are going to eat quickly so your highness can go and play in it before it becomes impossible to do so.’

Blinking up at him she scrunched her face up. 'Snnnowww.' She repeated carefully, trying to sound just like him. 'Pway snow.' Nodding she looked out the window. 'Cold.'

John smiled. 'It is cold out there but you'll be warm in your coat. And we won't be out in it too long. Then we'll come in and warm up.'

'Very good, Rosie! Snow. You don't want to miss your first real snow. Just as your Daddy said. It is cold but we will not stay too long outside. And we'll come back inside to warm up. I'm sure Grand-mère will have a lot of biscuits and hot chocolate to eat in front of the fireplace. Maybe something will happen then,' he added, looking at his brother. _Stop what you're doing and get in character. You have a role to play, and there are presents to give._

Mycroft returned Sherlock's gaze. _Fine. I said I would, and I will. But I believe Father Christmas has a rather good appetite. I seem to already be in character here, don't you think?_ 'Can you please refrain from doing... Whatever it is you are doing, brother dear?,' he asked mildly irritated.

'SNOW!' Rosie crowed happily always basking in Sherlock's praise when she did something right.

 

Greg gave Mycroft's shoulder a squeeze. 'Ah the things we do for the ones we love. It'll really make Christmases special for Rosie having you do all that for her. Might have to invest in a sleigh and rent some rent some reindeer.'

Mycroft threw him a glare. And sighed.

John smiled. 'Mm can't have Rosie getting too hungry. She's a bit of a terror when she's hungry and misses her nap. It'll probably take at least a couple of stories and some warm milk to get her to sleep tonight.'

‘A terror when she’s hungry. That does remind me of someone. Doesn’t it, Father?’

‘Is that another low blow, brother mine, or are you making assumptions? Both of which would be terrible, as I’m certain you’re aware,’ retorted Sherlock in a huff.

‘You know it isn’t… I was… trying to… chat,’ he finished lamely, seeking support in Greg. ‘If it wasn’t commonly… understood… that it was in fact not scientifically possible for two men to… beget children… you _are_ aware that some people might… assume… that Rosie is  technically _yours and John_ , are you not, brother dear?’

Words from long ago echoed. Sherlock and John shared a furtive look.

 _Listen, if you can imagine it, somebody is probably doing it somewhere_.

 

John shrugged setting Rosie's plate in front of her. 'People will talk. Let 'em.' He ruffled Rosie's hair watching her begin working on a 'sculpture' out of her mashed potatoes. 'Lovely work Rosie. Very creative.'  He stroked Rosie's hair. 'She loves Sherlock's violin. I'm sure he'll have her playing one before too long. She's always thrilled when Sherlock lets her touch his violin.'  
  
'John is right, Rosie. You are an artist in the making. Certainly a musician as well, if your eye-hand coordination is anything to go by,' he said warmly, a touch of pride in his voice.

John smiled at Sherlock. 'You're as much her father as I am. However people want to make that work out is their problem, not ours.'

Sherlock smiled back at John. 'I know. You keep on saying so. And I couldn't be happier… Changes from your behaviour when we first met, constantly worried about what people might think,' he chuckled, reminiscing some of the bittersweet memories of their time as flatmates. 'As if people would do such a thing. Think. Now, talking, however, that is perfectly in the realms of their abilities,' he added.

John shrugged. 'I finally realised you were right.  Like you usually are. What do I care what people I'll never see again think or say about us. I know what we are, who we are. That's what matters. You, me, Rosie. That's what matters. The rest, other people, not so much.'

Sherlock stopped thinking and acted, kissing John with a bit more passion than what he had previously been comfortable showing in public. 'Glad you finally came to your senses and recognise I'm always right,' he said sheepishly, his cheeks a bright shade of pink.

John chuckled. 'Git. I didn't say you were _always_ right, just fairly often. **_Big_** difference.' Lightly resting his hand on Sherlock's chest, over the bullet scar, he smiled. 'Don't let what I said go to your head.'

Greg rubbed Mycroft's arm lightly. 'Maybe try a little less sarcasm. I know it's how you two communicate but if you're going to try and get along better, maybe ease off on it. Try not to bait him. It's not going to happen overnight. Everyone knows that. Just try.'

Mycroft looked both pained at having said something apparently hurtful again - although he was not 100% positive Sherlock had actually been hurt by this comment - and pleased at seeing all three of them so close together. A proper family. Well. As soon as the paperwork was dealt with, in any case.

'I will, Gregory. I am,' he assured.

'Well, John, I hate to ask but I need to talk to you. If you don't mind,' he said in a serious tone which didn't bear any ill news.

 

Nodding to Mycroft he followed him into the other room. 'What is it?'

'I wanted to inform you that the papers you had asked for would be ready in er, the next few hours. Consider it a Christmas present, for all of you. I also wanted to apologise to you as well for my earlier - misconduct,' he added in what he knew was a repentant tone.

John  nodded. 'Thank you for getting all the paperwork squared away. I know it'll mean a lot, everything, to Sherlock to know he's not just 'Papa' but her father and guardian, just as much as I am. And if you can edit things about Mary a bit, that would be appreciated. I know she'll ask questions someday and I'd rather she not know the worst of it all,' he sighed. 'Apology accepted. Just, please, try and do better. I'm asking the same thing of him.'

'What precisely do you mean when you ask me to 'edit things about Mary', he asked, curiosity in his voice. 'I dare hope that you know I will, I merely need precision as to what I am to do,' he added, aware he was treading on thin ice despite John's acceptance of his apologies for his earlier outburst. He then nodded. 'in regards to doing better by my brother, rest assured I will, Doctor Watson. I may not have the same... Abilities when it comes to navigating the dangerous waters of emotions, and it will take time but I will,' he concluded, resolve clear on his face.

John sighed. 'Edit out assassin for hire. Leave in the government work. It's fine if it shows she wasn't the best person. I don't want her coming off as an angel. She shot Sherlock. But so long as she's not as bad as she really was, it's fine.' Smiling slightly he nodded. 'Greg will help you. He's a good man. You're lucky to have him. You couldn't find someone more caring, more steady, and who will be completely devoted to you 110%.'

‘Of course,’ Mycroft declared. ‘Gregory is indeed the person the most fitting to my personality,’ he agreed. ‘I can see that the recent development in your relationship is making both you and my brother happy. Keep it that way, please? Be there for him. I know that he is more… in touch with his emotions than he was when you first met him, but that makes him more… fragile, in a way. And, John?’ he asked as an afterthought. ‘Much as I loathe even mentioning the subject… talk things out with him and go slowly when you decide to… know each other,’ he finished softly, his protective, caring side showing.

John nodded. 'We're going slow. Talking things through step by step. That's not easy for either of us really, but we're trying. Both of us are trying to be better people for each other and for Rosie. We've both been through hell and back a few times. Enough to know how much we mean to each other.'

Mycroft's face closed, indicating he would not broach the subject any further. 'Good. Now I believe that your dear Rosie might be almost ready to enjoy the snow. And I have a ridiculous red outfit to put on,' he said, dismissing John, hoping he was not doing that in his usual curt way.

John chuckled. 'She'll be thrilled to see you all dressed up. Thanks for doing it.'

 


	8. Closer together

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A taste of Mystrade and a massage.

John kissed Sherlock's cheek after going back to check on Rosie. 'Did you eat?'

Sherlock sighed, pretending to be irritated by the question. 'Of course I ate. You know how her highness gets if I don't. What did Mycroft want?' he asked nonchalantly after a brief pause.

John squeezed his hand. 'Just a chat about me being careful with you and him being careful with Greg. One of the better talks I've had with him. He was almost... normal. Bit scary, really,' he chuckled.

'Ah yes. I can only imagine.' He cocked his head to the side. 'I suspect he told you something else, but it can't have been unnerving - my brother does have a tendency to unnerve everyone he talks to, especially you, and especially when it's about me. But you look… pleased.' He turned expectant eyes to John's, hoping he'd tell him the part he had previously left out.

Smiling he shook his head kissing his cheek. 'Nope. You're not finding out until later. I did ask him to edit things about Mary for Rosie's sake. Just so she doesn't seem as bad as she actually was. I don't want that for her.'

Sherlock pouted. 'You know I am not a patient man. When is “later”?' he demanded. 'Why do you want to... be mean?' he asked, giving John his best wounded puppy eyes.

John shook his head. 'It's one of your Christmas presents so you'll just have to wait a bit longer. I'll get Rosie bundled up to go outside. Why don't you check the weather and see if there's any chance of us getting back to London tonight or if we should just stay here a few days.'

Sherlock brooded but did as he was told. Checking the weather. Tedious. If John happened to have been right again… Oh, he longed for Baker Street. Baker Street was his home. Much more than the family home. Even if said place’s homeliness was increased a thousand fold with John in it.

He knew he could… talk about everything and anything with John, in Baker Street. Here, he wasn’t exactly certain. What was a certainty, however, was how happy Rosie was to be there. He smiled softly. If Rosie was happy, then John was happy. If John was happy, how could I not be?

He came back to the dining room, schooling his face. ‘It does look like you were right in having me packing for several days,’ he informed John.

John shrugged with a smile zipping up Rosie's coat. 'My shoulder aches this much it usually means we're in for a downpour. Since it's been cold I figured it had to be snow. Hopefully there won't be any ice.'  
Rosie smiled flapping her arms as much as possible in the warm puffy coat John bundled her in. 'Papa! Snow!!'  
Sherlock gave Rosie a broad smile. ‘Yes, snow, darling. You are going to have fun playing in it, aren’t you? Like Belle with the Beast. You and I are going to team up against Daddy. Daddy has the upper hand here. He was a soldier, after all. You _are_ going to join us, aren’t you dear?’ he asked, worry written on his face as John acknowledged the pain his shoulder was giving him.

John nodded. 'Nothing could stop me. It'll be worth my shoulder aching a bit more later to play in the snow with you two. I can always take another half a pill if I really need to and I packed the muscle rub. I'll be fine.'

Sherlock was reassured. ‘If you’re certain you will be fine, then I say we should go. And if you need a massage later,’ he added in a low voice as he brushed against John.

John smirked. 'I think I might... I think that would help my shoulder immensely.' Scooping Rosie up he carried her outside watching her blink up at the sky as the flakes caught on her long lashes. Wrinkling her nose slightly she giggled. 'Cold.'

 

## ~~~~~

 

Sherlock and Mycroft’s parents shared a knowing look. They had a good idea why Gregory had locked the door behind him as he went to help with Mycroft’s outfit, and they were very pleased to see their youngest warming up to another and acknowledge it.

Mr. Holmes slid an arm around his wife's waist pressing a kiss to her temple. 'A Christmas miracle, don't you think my dear. Having both our boys home with the ones they love and Rosie on top of it.'

‘”Miracle” is not quite the word I’d use. But I agree with you dear,’ Mrs Holmes said as she leaned into her husband’s embrace. ‘It is an event to be cherished.’

Mr. Holmes smiled watching Sherlock and Rosie. 'That little girl has done wonders for them. Both of them. I'll start making the hot chocolate.'

'Evidently. She is a gem which I'm certain Sherlock treasures as much as possible. The fact that she is John's gem and not his changes nothing - he loves her no matter what. I haven't seen him play in the snow or play at anything trivial for... Decades. Since he was a child playing pirates.’

Mrs. Holmes nodded stirring the gently simmering pot of milk and cream with a vanilla bean floating in it. 'It's been some time since we've seen Mycroft so relaxed and putting concern for the feelings of others ahead of the matters of practicality. It's good that he and Greg are in similar lines of work. They understand the demands of the work and that sometimes it comes first.'

## ~~~~~~

 

Sherlock gave them both a bright smile. Even though it was, indeed, cold outside as Rosie had declared and snowflakes were falling heavily, the sky, heavy and white with snow offered a few rays of sunshine that landed on John’s gold and grey hair and Rosie’s golden locks. The sight was beautiful. ‘Well. Rosie, darling. What are your first impressions of the snow? Besides its coldness,’ Sherlock asked. ‘I will be... glad to assist if you need me, John dear,’ he said, taking Rosie in his arms.

Rosie blinked at Sherlock eyes a bright blue green with flecks of gold. 'Preddy.' She nodded. 'Sparkly.'  
John smiled. 'It's very pretty and sparkly. Like your pretty blue dress. Here. Do like this. You can taste them.' Winking at Sherlock he opened his mouth letting a few flakes fall on his tongue. Copying him Rosie giggled. 'Papa! Look!' John slid his free arm around Sherlock. 'You're always assisting me love. Especially with Rosie.'

'I am thrilled to hear that,' he replied, beaming. He took a few steps into the garden and lay on the ground. 'Rosie, look,' he said as he batted his arms. 'An angel has fallen from the sky. And there's another one about to fall!' he exclaimed, taking Rosie off John's arms and setting her on the ground next to him. 'Do what I just did, angel,' he encouraged her.

Blinking at him for a moment like he was incredibly silly for rolling around on the ground she soon flopped over on her back making a smaller snow angel beside Sherlock. Giggling she flopped her arms and legs. 'Daddy look!!'  
John smiled filming them on his phone. 'I see!'

'See, dear! Not only little Rosie is a princess, she also is an angel' Sherlock said, a large smile on his face, not caring that John was filming them on his phone. Rosie will need souvenirs when she gets older, and what better way than pictures and videos?

John smiled. 'Well I could have told you that. She's always an angel. Even when she's cranky.' Tongue sticking out the corner of his mouth John poked at his phone trying to change the background to Sherlock and Rosie making snow angels.

'Dear, you know that you can't put a video as background photo, don't you? If you want us to pose you need only ask.' He looked at Rosie. 'Thinking?' as she vigorously nodded, he assumed his thinking pose, hands steepled under his chin as he knew Rosie was doing the same. 'Will that be a satisfactory picture, John dearest?’

John smiled. 'I took a couple still pictures but thanks so much for telling me I don't know what I'm doing,' he teased Sherlock affectionately. 'I like my two angels laying in the snow thinking about important things better than the other pictures I took anyway. She looks just like you when she does that.'

Sherlock blushed. ‘Thank you. You have no idea how much I appreciate you saying that. Are you cold yet, Rosie darling? Or do you want to play a little longer? Chase Daddy with snowballs? Along with Papa,’ he added.  
Rosie threw a handful of snow in the air. 'Yes! Chase!' She giggled spinning around in the snow shower she'd created.

Sherlock shared a loving look with John. ‘"The thrill of the chase". She's definitely your daughter, dear, there can’t be the slightest doubt about that.’

'Well, Rosie darling. The game is on!' Sherlock bellowed, throwing a snowball at John who received it on the leg. 'Rosie, avoid the shoulder, if you can.'

John smiled landing a loosely packed snowball on Sherlock's chest. 'I don’t see how two against one is fair.'  
'All is fair in love and war, Captain Watson,' Sherlock replied. 'Additionally, the way I see it _you_ have quite an advantage here with your military career,' he added.

'Still doesn't make two against one fair,' he laughed tossing a snowball to land at Rosie's feet in a puff causing her to giggle.  
'What do you think Rosie? It is much more than fair, in these circumstances, is it not?' Sherlock said, helping the little girl make an appropriate snowball. 'She seems to disagree, by the way. And finding it all very amusing,' Sherlock retorted as Rosie threw her little ball with as much force as she could. She would have missed, had Sherlock not made a second one and thrown it lightly at John, hitting his stomach.  
John laughed staggering around dramatically with a grin. 'I'm hit, I'm hit! Oh who will save me! If only I had two angels to come and give me a hug and kiss me. Then I might just live,' he winked at them. Looking a bit unsure Rosie looked up at Sherlock. 'Papa?'

Sherlock looked back at Rosie. 'Hug attack?'

She nodded. 'Hug 'tack.' Wobbling over to John she wrapped her arms around his legs causing both of them to land in a puff of snow. Hugging her close he laughed. 'Now, where's Papa? He needs to be in the hug pile.'

Sherlock smiled warmly at them. He launched himself at John, circling his waist, pulling him into a tight hug. 'Gotcha, dear!' he exclaimed, pressing a hard kiss on his lips. 'Here. Always here. You should know that. Kiss and tickles!' he told Rosie.

Rosie giggled curls bobbing around her face under her hood. 'Tickle!' Snuggling into John she tickled him as much as possible through John's thick jacket. Smiling He returned Sherlock's kiss. 'It's been a long time since I've seen you this relaxed and happy. I like it. A lot.' He kissed him again.

'Must be the recent... developments, dear,' he said, kissing him again before helping Rosie to tickle him. 'And spending quality time with my two favourite people,' he added.

Smiling he kissed him slowly laughing. 'Mmmm well whatever it is, I hope it's a permanent thing. I like the change in you. I've always loved your smile and the way it makes you light up. Rosie loves it too. She's always trying to do things to make you smile.' He ran his hand though Sherlock's curls admiring the way the snow sparkled like tiny diamonds. 'So handsome.'

'Yes, you are,' Sherlock replied. He was trying and training himself into accepting compliments but it was still something he battled with. 'If that makes you happy, as long as you two are in my life, I don't see a reason why I'd stop,' he declared seriously, fixing his eyes on John's, enjoying the sensation of his hand through his hair. 'We should return inside. We don't want Rosie to catch a cold,' he suddenly said as she sneezed.

John nodded. 'Right you are. A mug of hot chocolate and a nice nap cuddled up in a chair near the fire before it's time for presents should be just the ticket.' Holding Rosie close he got up slowly ignoring the ache in his shoulder and leg. 'In we go.' Leaning into Sherlock he smiled. 'Thank you for making such an effort. It means a lot to the both of us.'

He should have known that John would have seen the tremendous effort he was making. To enjoy himself, so soon after having been hit hard. He would continue to fight. His... uneasiness, discomfort would eventually pass and he'll be really able to enjoy John's and Rosie's presence. He smiled. 'You are most welcome, dear. I - You deserve it. I like making you happy and see your eyes sparkle'.

John nuzzled his cheek. 'Look, I'm not expecting a complete change in you. I still want you to be you, love. I just want you to be able to relax and enjoy things like seeing Rosie enjoying the snow. Seeing you happy makes me happy. Rosie too.'

## ~~~~~~

 

Greg smiled at Mycroft. 'You need any help with the outfit? I'll lend a hand.'

Mycroft smiled back. 'I am not opposed to you lending me a hand. To get me out of my usual clothes, for example,' he precised, an inviting smile on his lips.

Greg smirked. 'Why Mycroft Holmes if I didn't know better I'd think you were seducing me...'

'Then you clearly don't know me sufficiently, Gregory. Close the door, would you?' he asked in an innocent voice.

Greg closed the door firmly making sure it locked. 'Whatever you say...' Smirking he gently pulled Mycroft close kissing him slowly.

Mycroft broke the kiss and put his nose in the crook of Greg’s neck, inhaling his scent, masculine and powerful yet subdued - for the moment.

Greg smiled kissing Mycroft slowly. 'Hopefully the bad weather will keep crime to a minimum. I'm in no rush to get back to work. Not when I've got you all to myself for once' He ran a hand over his chest slowly.

Mycroft smirked. ‘And what exactly are you planning to do since you’ve got me “all for yourself”? Or would you rather I take advantage of the circumstance of being... locked in a room with you,’ his voice a teasing whisper.

Greg shook his head with a grin. 'Myc, love, if I'd had any idea this was what you were really like, believe me I would have made a pass at you a hell of a lot sooner. And I've got plenty of plans. Just depends on which one strikes your fancy at the moment.'

‘Depends which one “strikes my fancy”,’ he repeated pensively. ‘Why, my dear Gregory, I would rather say that at any moment you are my fancy,’ he said taking hold of Greg’s wrists, pressing their bodies together. ‘And my particular desire,’ he added dropping his voice to a lower octave, ‘is to lay a claim on you, here’, he finished in a hoarse whisper dripping undisguised lust as he strongly licked Greg’s neck.

Greg made a strangled sound of a bitten off moan as he pressed against Mycroft. 'Mmmm whatever you want Myc. Anything and everything. You know that.' Kissing him slowly he slid his hand down to stroke him lightly.

‘I should think not,’ Mycroft said, breaking Greg’s kiss as he took his hand away. ‘You are not in any position to make any...overture,’ he softly chided, stroking him firmly. ‘I was under the impression that you offered to help me out of my suit,’ he continued eyebrow slightly raised.

Greg chuckled. 'I'm not sure if I love it or hate it or am extremely turned on when you're a right smug bastard.' He kissed him slowly. 'Most likely the first one and the last one.'

'It seems evident that you are rather aroused by this particular behaviour,' Mycroft replied. He came close to Greg's lips and planted a firm, passionate kiss on his lips. 'Although I'm afraid the item of clothing you like me best with will have to be the first to go,' he said as he cupped a feel of Greg's arse as he pressed himself against him. 'Yes, you definitely appreciate me being a ‘smug bastard', he declared...smugly.

'Pompous arse bastard.' Greg chuckled deeply pressing close to Mycroft. 'Mmmm tie first. But then I'll be able to put your tie to good use.' Sliding his hands up Mycroft's chest he worked the buttons open slowly. 'Look at you all dressed down, not wearing a waistcoat toady...' he rumbled kissing along Mycroft's neck.

'Indeed. I didn't want you to work too hard. You will need all the energy you can muster,' Mycroft replied, presenting his neck for Greg to explore it more, panting slightly as Greg became more insistent. 'I am positive you enjoy the sight of Mycroft Holmes dressed down. How much will you enjoy the sight of Mycroft Holmes without any clothes at all?'

'Oh I know I'm going to enjoy you without anything on even more,' he chuckled deeply. 'And the fact that the first time I get to see you naked is in your parents’ house will always amuse me to no end. Makes me feel like I'm about fifteen again.'

'But as time is of the essence, you will not bask in the glory of my nakedness for long, I'm afraid. But there will be a repeat, I assure you,' he promised grabbing Greg by the lapels of his coat and suckling down at the base of his neck. He was wearing a shirt: a love bite would not be perceived easily. 'I have laid my claim. One that doesn't require... Time and preparation. In case you were still harbouring doubts, consider them vanquished. You are mine,' Mycroft said in a low, possessive tone. 'Help me out of my trousers, would you? It is rather tight in there.'

Greg chuckled deeply. "Bloody well right I'm yours. No need to worry about that. And you're a bad, rude man for doing this to me. Can barely even think and make my hands move. You're a menace. And trust me I'm going to leave my mark all over you later..." Hands fumbling a bit he helped Mycroft undo and step out of his neatly pressed trousers.

Mycroft put his most innocent look on. ‘Did I, now? It really was never my intention to render you so… pliable. Although this last promise of yours is rather…  Appealing, I must say.’

'Mm see the advantage I have in all this is I've spent years figuring you out. Helps that I've gotten to try out my theories on Sherlock who's usually oblivious,' he chuckled nipping at Mycroft's ear.  
'Please refrain from mentioning my brother when we are in this state,' Mycroft complained. 'Although I must admit it is quite efficient to get in the role I'm supposed to play in just a few moments.'

Chuckling Greg kissed him slowly. 'Mm you've got a point. You always do. How'm I supposed to keep focussed when you look so… edible... right now?'

'Gregory. Feast your eyes as much as you like. I myself find yourself extremely… edible. But if you need to focus, and loathe as I am to say this, we do have to keep on track otherwise... presents... might...you know...' Mycroft did not come to finish his sentence. His hands had got to their own accord to grope Greg, and push him down to his knees. Greg was going to feast, but his eyes would not be the only ones partaking in the act.

Greg smirked. 'You're damn lucky I don't mind a bit of manhandling at times like this,' he chuckled stroking Mycroft slowly. 'Not fair that you're so bloody gorgeous.'

'Gregory, please. Do stop talking, most exquisite being,' Mycroft replied, locking lustful eyes with Greg, making sure his intent was clear.

Greg snickered. 'Charmer. Silver tongued devil. Do try and keep it down. I'd rather your parents just suspect what we might be doing than know. World of difference there.' Humming in appreciation he stroked Mycroft slowly taking his time to lap at him teasingly.

'You have no idea how discreet I can be,' he whispered. 'Now, if you wouldn't mind...' he continued, slightly pushing into Greg's mouth. 'We'll have time to discover how loud I can be later, don't worry about that.'

Greg smirked licking and sucking eagerly hand wrapped around what wasn't in his mouth. Gazing up at him he winked teasingly. They'd managed this a few times when they managed to coordinate schedules but this, well this was different.

Mycroft's head reclined against the wall behind him. He sighed, refraining any moans from escaping his lips but encouraging Greg, guiding him, hand tangled into his hair. He did whisper encouragements, so low that he wasn't certain Greg heard them.

Greg moaned deeply licking and sucking eagerly. They didn't have as much time as he would have liked but he'd be sure to make his Myc feel as good as possible. At least there was a very minimal chance they'd be interrupted this time. He'd put in a word with Anthea that unless there really was an emergency that Mycroft was not to be bothered. Greg was being even better than he had been on the few, rare occasions they had been able to be this intimate. 'I can… hardly...' he started, his hand a firm grip, tightening grip on Greg's shoulder.

'Shhh...' he murmured licking slowly. 'Just try to enjoy. Don't overthink. Just enjoy. I think you can do that if you try.'

Mycroft's mind was blissfully blank. He tightened his grip on Greg's shoulder as well as on his hair. _I am. Thank you. More._

Greg chuckled. There would never be any changing Mycroft. He was and always would be bossy. But maybe, just maybe he could convince him it wasn't so bad to not be completely in control all the time. Sucking eagerly he moaned deeply, eyes half closed.

'Gregory,' Mycroft warned, his voice a low, hoarse whisper.

Greg hummed deeply thumb running across the top of Mycroft's hip clearly letting him know it was ok to let go. He'd always be there to help him through it.

He let go, a low groan escaping his lips as his legs trembled under the wave of pleasure Greg's ministrations brought him. He bent, muscles contracting. 'Thank you, Gregory,' he whispered when the moment had passed. 'This was... extraordinary. I love you. Thank you,' he repeated in the same low whisper.

Greg hummed eyes a bit glazed. Making sure Mycroft was clean and tidy, his love hated messes he'd learned that very early on, he chuckled. Extraordinary wasn't exactly praise that Mycroft Holmes gave out often. 'Yeah well I just happen to know what you like and what you need. That's all love,' he gently pulled him close.

‘And you tend to my needs perfectly. I can only hope to return your attention later today. Show you the extent of my gratitude, in a _very_ thorough manner. We will have time, tonight,’ he promised.

Greg smiled smoothing Mycroft's hair into place with a gentle hand. 'Mm I know, love. And I don't doubt it. Not a bit. Does me a bit proud that I can make your mind go blank for a bit. I think you need it sometimes.'

‘And you can be. I can only look forward to more of these activities with you. Preferably lying. You and I are still in the early stages of our relationship, but I wouldn’t have chosen you if I had had the slightest doubt it wouldn’t last. I am more than ready to explore a deeper side to our knowledge of each other - as I’m certain you are.’

Greg nodded. 'Well just so you know, you're stuck with me. Probably longer than you'd like,' he chuckled. 'I don't leave even when I should. Ask my ex-wife. I've been looking forward to having the time to explore. Our schedules usually don't let us have the time for that sort of thing,' he chuckled. 'At least not so far.'

‘I’ll arrange that so we have more possibilities to make our schedules coincide for longer periods of time,’ he said, his all-important tone back, at odds with the clothes he had on at the moment - or lack thereof. ‘I certainly don’t expect you to leave, Gregory. We’ve only just begun,’ he said, his tone slightly going back into lustful territory.

Greg snorted a laugh with a lopsided cheeky grin. 'Oh and how exactly are you going to tell Anthea to work it into your schedule?'

Mycroft merely lifted an eyebrow. '"Clear my schedule, I have a long and important meeting." Obviously,' he replied. 'She wouldn't dare ask for more precision. It is not her place,' he added.

Greg laughed softly. 'And she's a whole hell of a lot more perceptive than you give her credit for. But I'm sure she'll make sure that your very long and important meeting isn't interrupted.'

'Of course she is perceptive. I wouldn't have anyone with average intelligence in my employ, after all.' His gaze on Gregory's still very much clothed body lingered on certain particularly discern able parts of his anatomy. 'She would make absolutely certain I am not disturbed in any way. I won't let anything disturb me in any way. Even less so when I have such important… explorations… ahead of me,' he finished, roaming his perfectly manicured hands over Greg's backside, fondling it.

Greg's grin widened. 'Oh so does that mean I'm free to see if you're available for "lunch" on a whim if I can get myself out from under the usual mountains of paperwork? Should I text her and ask her to clear your schedule for a lunch "meeting"?' he teased running a hand up Mycroft's chest as he pressed against him.

'You can absolutely ask her if I'm available… But it'll be much quicker if you ask me. And more efficient. She will arrange for my schedule to be cleared. Even on short notice.' He gasped. 'Emergencies happen all the time,' he said in a very serious tone. 'Now would be a perfect example,' he said.

'Mm and you'll be quick to rearrange your schedule to make time for "lunch".' He kissed him slowly moaning softly as he pressed against him. 'Mm I like the idea of these "emergencies".'

Mycroft kissed him back. ‘Evidently,’ he replied in a moan slightly louder than expected. He grabbed Greg by the collar of his jumper and assaulted his mouth, kissing him feverishly. ‘Gregory,’ he panted, ‘you will _always_ be my emergency. I need to tend to the one... _there_ ,’ he moaned, hands unequivocally going down, fondling both his backside and his evident arousal.

Greg bucked into his hands with a hiss. 'You are positively wicked when I've got you all worked up. Bloody hell you’re insatiable. Thank my lucky stars for it too. No one would ever guess you're so passionate and hot blooded under that cool exterior. Always knew you had it in you what with the way you always worry over Sherlock. But I didn't know how deep it went. Lucky me.'

Mycroft gave him a crooked, lascivious smile. ‘I’ll take that as a yes,’ he whispered against his lips, working on unbuttoning his trousers. ‘You know I’m always hungry,’ he said, getting to his knees.

Greg tangled his hand in Mycroft's hair biting his lip to soften the sound of his moans. The sight of Mycroft on his knees never failed to make him even harder. 'Mm so I'm better than cake?' he teased with a smirk.

'You have no idea,' Mycroft replied, going back to licking and sucking Greg's unmentionables. He grazed his teeth ever so lightly against him and kissed along the shaft. 'I am so hungry, Gregory,' he said as he pushed him into his mouth and swallowed him all, locking their eyes together.

Greg hissed jaw clenched to prevent himself from making too much noise. There was something quite thrilling about fooling around in Mycroft's parents’ house. 'You are so good to me...' He panted softly as he ran his hand through Mycroft's rich red hair. 'So bloody good...'

Taking Greg's words as encouragement, he renewed his latest feat and set a faster pace, all the while fondling him and teasing another interesting part. Exploring it will very possibly make for a short night. He knew Gregory would take the greatest pleasure in it - but his lover still had to practise… reserve. He was unsure that increasing his pleasure would be the smartest action he'd perform. Under other circumstances, he undoubtedly would - here, he was unsure. He seeked out Gregory's advice, circling more intently, the question in his eyes.

Greg stroked a hand through Mycroft's hair. 'Not too much, love. I don't want my shouting to bring down the house and let everyone know _exactly_ what we're up to. Feel free to try anything you want when we have a bit more privacy.'

Mycroft nodded and removed his fingers, ran them across his stomach, behind his back, pressing him closer, increasing the strength of his suction. He closed his eyes, enjoying giving Greg such pleasure, listening to his moans and groans.

Greg hissed in pleasure trying not to tighten his grip in Mycroft's hair too much. 'That's it. That's perfect. You're perfect. Swear nothing's ever felt this good,' he panted, rambling more than a bit. Mycroft's warm willing mouth was the best thing Greg had ever experienced. At least so far.

Encouraged by Greg's praise, Mycroft carried on with even more enthusiasm. Then he stopped. 'Gregory. Use me,' he asked in a hoarse voice. 'I want you to use me and let go. Please.’

'You will be the death of me Mycroft Holmes...' he growled lowly, panting sharply. 'You've got no idea what it does to me when you talk like that.' Tangling his hand in Mycroft's hair again he let his hips buck sharply. 'You're so good, love...'

Mycroft was holding onto Gregory's sides, enjoying his lover taking so much pleasure out of him, not refraining for whatever reason. Gregory was glorious. Being used was… Novel, and intriguing. He felt… As if a weight was being lifted. He put his own hand on Gregory's, and squeezed it strongly. _Don't hesitate. Harder. Faster._

Greg squeezed back lightly. It was good to see Mycroft let go and let himself not be in charge and in control of a situation.  
'Not going to last long, love. Not when you're so good...' he moaned rolling his hips. 'Close…'

Mycroft opened his eyes and held Gregory's dark with arousal. He didn't blink. _I'm here so you can use me. I love being at your mercy. Give me all you have._

Greg nodded slightly driving himself into Mycroft's willing mouth but being careful to not be too rough. There was a fine line and he didn't want to cross it. Panting he gazed down at him. 'Myc....' He at least tried to give him a warning before he came.

He closed his eyes as Gregory came, unable to resist smiling as spurts of salty, warm semen came into his mouth. He felt a rush of pleasure coursing through his body as pride and satisfaction swelled in his chest. He had never felt so strongly moored, safe than when he had let Gregory take control. He had known there was a possibility at something, at a relationship of sorts when he witnessed the level of implication in his brother’s safety after he’d disappeared from the hospital he had been brought in, the distraught look on his face when doctors had informed them of his comatose state after his last overdose, the reassurance he looked for in such a stoic man as he. He acknowledged that he should explore it further when Gregory came to him to take care of him with a cup of lukewarm coffee in a papercup and a blanket after an ordeal that had left him somewhat shaken.

No one had perceived his emotional state. Gregory had.

He opened his eyes and met Gregory’s. ‘I trust this was satisfactory?’ he asked, looking up at the marvellous person who made him… feel.

Greg blinked down at him his deep brown eyes darker than usual. 'Bloody hell...' he panted running a hand over his face. 'Don't think I've come half that hard since I was a teenager. Always knew you had a talented mouth. And here I thought it was just for charming speeches to smooth the ruffled feathers of foreign dignitaries,' he teased. Stroking Mycroft's cheek lovingly he smiled. 'How did I get so lucky?'

'Luck. Oh, Gregory. There is nothing such as luck in the circumstances of our relationship. You must know by now that you and I starting one owns nothing to luck rather than deeply thought-out reasoning. And silver haired temples. And other… alluring parts of your anatomy,' he replied and took Gregory's hand, standing up.

Greg helped him up. Neither one of them was getting any younger and that floor wasn't the softest or warmest thing to be down on. Gently pulling him close he nuzzled along his jaw. 'Mm well luck, fate, careful plotting and planning on your part, whatever it was or is, I'm glad we're together.'

Mycroft exhaled a sigh of contentment. 'So am I, Gregory. So am I,' he replied softly, pulling a hand through his hair as the other caressed his back. He relished the embrace and allowed himself to feel Gregory's warmth and his heartbeat slowing down to synchronise with his own. He lowered his head and smellt the reassuring, strong bouquet that came from Gregory's body. He breathed him in, deeply and tightened his embrace. 'Loathe as I am to say this, Gregory, I am certain we should... Return to the reality of the situation: Christmas dinner at my parents' with... everyone,' he said apologetically. 'And one person in particular who doesn't know yet who Father Christmas is and for whom I accepted to play the part.’

Greg smiled placing a gentle kiss on Mycroft's forehead. 'Mm suppose so. If you're Father Christmas I guess that makes me your elf. Rosie's going to be so excited to see you all dressed up. I told her The Night Before Christmas a while back. I got to sit with her while Sherlock and John filled out paperwork.'

'I'd say you're more a guiding light than a servant,' Mycroft replied. 'Is there any such... Character that would fit your analogy?' he asked putting on a pair of overlarge red trousers. 'What a treat that must have been - but such a shame it has to come to these formalities for you to be able to see Rosie.' Putting on a white cotton shirt he continued 'Social calls are not easy to come by in our lines of work and one must accommodate one's life to its demanding schedule and take advantage of every opportunity as they come. It's hardly anyone's fault you can't see her as often as you'd like,' he finished buttoning said shirt under Gregory's appreciative gaze.

Greg nodded. 'I miss the little squirt when I haven't seen her in a while.' Smiling he shook his head. 'Whenever she comes by, my entire department shuts down. Everyone's got to come say hello and get a hug. It's a morale boost. A bit of light in all the darkness we deal with day after day. Just her simple joy of getting to push a button on the copier can make a very bad day much better. I'm going to try and make more time with her.' He thought for a moment. 'Would you object to maybe asking John and Sherlock if she could have a sleepover once in a while? We'd get to spend some time with her, they could have a date night or run down leads,' he shrugged slightly.

Mycroft smiled. 'She is quite the ray of sunshine, isn't she?' He considered for a second as he put on the red jacket that went with the trousers. 'Gregory. Surely you can't be serious in thinking I wouldn't want to have Rosie sleep over at mine. I would need to make some time as well, but this is an excellent idea,' he replied, a wide smile on his face. 'Now. I think I should wait for the last moment to put on the hat, beard, gloves and boots. It might help me to get n character, however. What do you think?’

Greg smiled. 'Bet Anthea could get a room all set up just for Rosie at your place. And what better reason to have to leave work on time and not bring work home than having her there overnight or for a weekend. I'm sure she'd enjoy spending the time with us. And getting spoiled.'

Mycroft hummed. 'Of course she could. And would, gladly. She has seen her a few times and was immediately taken with her. This child is a magnet,' he smiled. 'Yes, I expect... That could be arranged,' he said visibly uncertain at leaving paperwork pile up at work. 'Receiving gifts whenever we have the possibility to see her hardly qualify as being spoilt… However her fathers would disagree. Well. Her biological father,' he amended.

Greg chuckled. 'Of course Ant loves Rosie. Everyone does. I'm sure it's not every day that such a little ray of sunshine shows up at your office. And you wouldn't have to leave ALL your paperwork. She'll be going to bed fairly early. You'll still have time to get some work done. And if we know ahead of time when she's staying, you can get a jump on things so you're freer when she does have a sleepover.' Chuckling he kissed him softly. 'Yeah. John'll complain but he doesn't really mean it. Nothing wrong with spoiling a kid so long as they don't become a brat. I don't see that happening to Rosie.'

Mycroft nodded. 'Of course we'll know ahead of time. Her room will have to be ready. And Anthea will have to manage my schedule accordingly. 'Sometimes I wonder if he really doesn't,' he said as he laced up his boots. 'But leave it to Sherlock to keep spoiling her no matter how much John protests. I don't know how he puts up with him - Sherlock is still very much an ungrateful child to me.’

Greg chuckled. 'And I'm sure Anthea will have no problem rearranging your schedule for Rosie Time. She'd be happy to do it.' Gently squeezing Mycroft's shoulder he nodded. 'I know. I understand, Myc. I really do. But he's not. He's come a hell of a long way in just a few years. From skinny junky to slightly less skinny consulting detective who happens to be a very good father.'

'I imagine you are right. You are less biased than I when it comes to Sherlock's... behaviour. I can only hope that his... Improved lifestyle will continue. Who knows, it might be I who would ask him how the diet is going in er, ten years’ time,' he finished, imagining how this would look like.

Greg snorted a laugh. 'Oh yes when they've retired to a little cottage where Sherlock keeps bees and produces excellent honey and John publishes their cases. We'll see. He's already filling back out now that John and Rosie are around. He's back to looking like he did when John first moved in and got him eating regularly.'

‘I’m having a difficult time imagining Sherlock having such a… mundane and country-like activity as beekeeping, I admit,’ he chuckled. ‘Although John compiling and publishing the cases they’ve worked on together over the years seems very likely,’ he conceded. ‘If I were to make a deduction, I would say that domestic life suits him. I also assume that Rosie has a large role to play in Sherlock putting on weight. I’m certain she can be rather stubborn, much like Sherlock.’

Greg laughed smoothing Mycroft's shirt. A small point of contact to keep himself grounded. 'John's said that if Sherlock won't eat, then she won't eat. And she'd caught on to him faking taking bites of food. She watches his fork. If he puts it right back down she throws a fit.'

Mycroft rolled his eye, disbelieving. ‘Who would have thought that Sherlock Holmes would meet his match in a barely two-year old? I have to admit - and please do not repeat it - that Sherlock’s reaction is nice. Rather endearing, I must say. If a bit... cowardly. One would have thought he were more reasonable than this and stood his ground, not giving in to her fits. It is good that John is there to set limits. Left only to Sherlock, I am certain she would become quite the holy terror.’

He put his gloved hand on Greg’s. ‘I’m going to guide you through the proceedings for Operation Father Christmas. It is quite straightforward. You are to return into the dining room and inform Mother who undoubtedly will be taking care of Rosie that I had to leave because of a work related emergency. Of course I’m not going back to London, Gregory!’ he chuckled as he saw Greg becoming rather pale. ‘I will wait here until everyone is ready, then go through the back garden and happen by the door,’ he smiled, happy with his cunning plan. ‘I know it is not traditional to give out presents before Christmas Day. However, I know for a fact that she will have a lot of them for her first Christmas. I don’t imagine it would be too… terrible to split the extra presents from the planned, would it?’

Greg sighed shaking his head with a smile. 'Myc, don't scare me like that. Here I was beginning to think that you were going to back out of this.' Stealing a kiss he nodded. 'Sounds like an excellent plan. And as far as Sherlock goes, I think he's all too happy to let Rosie call the shots and indulge her. She's a fascinating, every changing 'experiment' for him. What foods does she like? Does she show a preference for certain items of clothing and toys? Things like that. Some families do presents Christmas Day, some Christmas Eve. I don't think there's any one way to do it so long as it works.'

Mycroft simply smiled. ‘I’m certain this will work immensely. Maybe you should return to the kitchen or wherever Mother is to inform her of my unfortunate departure. Please do tell me when it is most… convenient for Father Christmas to appear. I know you will find a subtle way. I will wait here until you affirm that the coast is clear or something of the kind. Now, go, Gregory,’ he said, pushing him away slightly towards the door.

Greg chuckled. 'Watch who you're pushing. I could have you in cuffs before you can blink.' He smirked. 'Just think on that. I'll send you a text when it's the right time for you to appear. I'm sure I can distract Rosie with something long enough for you to sneak out and make your grand entrance.' Stealing a kiss he slipped out.

## ~~~~~~

 

Setting Rosie down John worked on getting her out of her coat.

Mrs. Holmes smiled. 'Here, let me help. Your hands must be half frozen and numb. Go change into dry clothes. I can get Rosie changed into dry things and settled with some hot chocolate.' Picking Rosie up she smiled. 'Come along dear there's a nice warm spot by the fire.'  
John smiled. 'Thank you. We won't be too long.'  
Waving him off she smiled. 'Take your time.'  
He squeezed Sherlock's hand. 'I think I could use some help getting the cream rubbed in my shoulder after being out in the cold.'

'I know you aren't, John. I like seeing, making you happy,' he smiled. He was welcomed by the warmth of this home as they entered and his mother took care of Rosie. He smiled even more broadly when she shooed them away so they'd get changed into dry clothes. He nodded. 'Of course, dear. You will need help for that cream to evenly penetrate your skin and soothe your aches,' he acquiesced as they walked up the stairs to Sherlock's bedroom, passing the pile of Christmas gifts they had brought with them.

 

John chuckled as he looked at the pile of gifts. 'And why do I have a sneaking suspicion that the pile of presents for Rosie might reach the top of the tree...' Shaking his head he winced as he peeled his rather damp jumper off. 'I think she had fun out in her first snow.'

‘A mere suspicion, John,’ he winked at his partner. ‘Are you alright, dear?’ he asked, concerned, as he saw him wince. ‘You’ve never hurt that much before just by being out in the cold,’ he stated.

John rolled his shoulder with a slight frown. 'Must've tweaked it the other day when I had to catch Rosie from barrelling down the stairs to go see what Nana Hudson had baking in the oven when we got word about that case. Scar tissue probably got aggravated.'

Sherlock came closer to him, put his hand on his back. ‘Turn around, dear. Take your shirt off and let me see. I cannot properly put any sort of cream on if you keep your shirt on,’ he added.

Standing on tiptoe John kissed Sherlock softly. 'Thanks love. Just help me out of it and with the cream and I'll be right as rain soon enough.'

‘Your wish is my command,’ Sherlock said as he bent slightly to kiss John properly. ‘If it, er, hurts so much, it would probably be better to cut it out,’ he said trying to sound nonchalant.

John nodded. 'Yeah, yeah, I know. Just not looking forward to another surgery and physical therapy all over again. Plus it's going to make it very difficult to do things with and for Rosie. I know you'll help but I'll miss doing things.'

'I told you, they have made progress since last time you underwent these procedures. Which was eons ago,' he reprimanded him slightly. 'I have... connections, dear. Don't forget it,' he added. 'I have a feeling you will be insufferable when you have to go through it. But you are correct. I will help. It'll go much faster,' he insisted.

Smiling he slid his arms around Sherlock's lean waist. 'I know, I know. I appreciate the pep talk and looking into less invasive, more effective surgeries. It wasn't the bullet you know. Not really. They cleaned it up as best they could but infection set in and I had to have three more surgeries.'

'May I… See it, John?' Sherlock asked uncertain, afraid to do wrong.

'Well if you're going to be massaging cream in it, you're going to be seeing it sooner rather than later.' John shrugged with a hint of a smile. 'Who knows, maybe you'll be able to deduce something about it that I don't know.'

Sherlock nodded and cut the piece of offensive fabric. When they had shared an intimate moment when he had had a situation the night before, he was not focussing on the feeling of John's body behind him. There were too many sensory inputs, most of them he had to block lest he'd be unable to... deal with the situation.

'Take as much time as you need,' he murmured softly knowing Sherlock was likely to get overwhelmed with all the new information to process.

John’s chest was broad and muscular, although Sherlock knew it had been more so when he was in the Army. The training he must have had was the only thing that prevented him from being as muscular as he’d been - although he did keep in a firm, fit shape with the crime solving and the running around they did. He hid his chest underneath jumper, often hideous, always overlarge. He looked so much better with a fitting shirt on. One of these days, he’ll happen to be in Savile Row and ask for his assistance. His biceps were well-developed - tribute to lifting patients as a doctor, Sherlock when he had zoned out, Rosie whenever she required it.

And underneath his shoulder, scarred tissue. Subscapularis muscle, one didn’t need extensive medical background to know this. It was no wonder he had been invalidated home. Even though years had passed since he’d taken a bullet, the scar was still very present, highly visible. John had evidently neglected to treat its external consequences - the surgeries and subsequent physical therapies he had had to undergo must have taken away all desire to treat anything else that pertained to said wound. The evidence of John’s military actions was a small hole in the form of a starburst, with white lines of scarring spreading out of it, adorning his front - he dreaded to see what his back looked like. He knew that this type of wound, despite treatments (especially a decade old NHS ones) would cause the opposite side to look… jagged. His skin would have been torn to shreds and put back together leaving an ugly, irregular, rough scarring pattern. Matching bullet wounds, even if the place differed, matching scarring - and Sherlock would offer John the possibility of having it faded as he had.  
He for one was glad for the progress which had been made in that regard. They could not make them disappear, but he would be loathe to have to face such a brutal reminder of his trials on a daily basis.

_I will find out what’s wrong. I will help in whatever way I can._

He came closer and inspected the wound, reaching towards it with trembling fingers. He met John’s gaze hesitantly. ‘Will I hurt you when I put the cream on? I should warm up my hands. I’m sorry, my love.’

 

John held up bravely under Sherlock's scrutiny. People tended to be uncomfortable around the scar. God knew he was. Mary had been downright skittish and a bit, well, nasty, about it. He'd always kept as much of it covered as possible and rarely let her see him without a shirt of some sort on. Smiling softly up at Sherlock he shook his head. 'No. It won't hurt. It's mostly numb. Lots of nerve damage. Which doesn't help with the pain. It feels a bit numb. I can feel pressure, hot, cold, but it's a bit like touching something when your hand is numb. Best way I can describe it. But a bit warmed up would feel nice. Just from the warmth of your hands.'

Sherlock nodded. ‘Thank you for letting me. Look at it. I know it must be… difficult,’ he said, rubbing his hands together, breathing into them to warm them up. ‘I will have a look into it, John. I want you to feel everything,’ he said with the utmost seriousness in his tone. ‘I promise.’ He reached out once again, his hands less hesitant. ‘Should I also put some on your back? What amount to you need? John, I want to do right, but if I don’t put enough, you’ll still be hurting. And you must take a painkiller. A whole pill, not merely a half one.’

He smiled softly. 'What took me so long to figure all this out? You really are a marvel. You can't really use too much. I finally found something that doesn't burn. Just slowly makes things feel warm. I'll take half a pill now, half after presents. I don't want to be too out of it to enjoy Rosie's first Christmas.'

Sherlock met John's soft gaze. He smiled to him. 'That's the only excuse I warrant good enough to accept compromise.' His tone became more serious. 'You know I will be as much of a bother so you take it before… retiring for the night, dear? Are my hands warm enough?' he asked after a brief pause.

John smiled. 'It'll have to be good enough because I am not going to be so sleepy that I don't remember every minute of our girl's first Christmas. And I promise to take the other half so I can get some decent sleep. I'm sure Rosie will be up bright and early to see what Santa brought her.' Sighing he leaned into Sherlock slightly. 'Mm your hands are perfect. Nice and warm and you're not digging into the sore spots too much.'

'Relax, John, my dear. I'll work it well for you. Violinist hands, remember? I heard that helped for massages. Go lie on... on the bed, please. It will be easier for me to access every part I need to put cream on. And I hope it’ll be somewhat good for you,' he added, slightly oblivious to his action mirroring John's in a way - a helping hand.

John chuckled softly. 'Mm you're probably right. Just let me get settled and comfortable. Nice of your mum to watch Rosie and keep her occupied while you help me out.'

'You need help for this, and Mother does not mind taking care of Rosie, as you continually say. It's perfectly logical. What is there to chuckle about?’ he asked, slightly confused.

John smiled softly gently pulling Sherlock down for a tender kiss. 'You. Just you. And how impossibly incredible you are. Every time I think I've got you figured out, you throw another curve ball at me and I'm starting all over again. All perfectly logical,' he nuzzled his cheek gently.

 

Sherlock shrugged. 'I really don't see what there is to' figure out', as you say. But I'm glad that you like it,' he replied tenderly. 'Now, go on the bed that I may tend to my injured doctor,' he said, guiding him to the bed. When John was comfortably settled, Sherlock started working on his muscles again, pressing his fingers lightly around the wound as if he were playing the piano, and rolling the skin of the whole area, as if he were working dough - with less pressure. He kept doing that until John really relaxed and closed his eyes, enjoying being tended to, his scar not a disastrous, ugly thing but a part of him that should be loves as the rest of him. Sherlock smiled and bent down, whispering in John's ear. 'I will need you to lie on your stomach now, dear.’

John was half asleep when Sherlock's voice roused him. 'Mm... oh, right... You really do have talented hands. Must come from fine tuning your violin and knowing just how much you can tune it and not have a string snap. You're going to be doing a lot of this now just so you know.'

Sherlock smirked. ‘I figured as much, yes.’

He has not seen John's back earlier, not so close. He shuddered, his own scars reminding themselves to him.

He straddled John to have better access and make it easier to the area he was going to massage. ‘I hope yours doesn't hurt,’ he said straightening his back before getting to work, bent above John. _Ah. I let it slip. John's not an idiot he would have figured part of it… Wouldn't he?_

‘Close your eyes for me and focus on breathing,’ he said as his warm hands touched John's skin, feeling the area before starting to rub the cream in and massage him.

John shifted slightly to look up at him. 'Tit for tat, Sherlock. You've seen my scar. I've seen the one on your chest but you never would let me see your back. I know it's bad. You have to promise me that if it ever acts up you'll let me do this for you. I won't be as good at it, but I'll try,' he murmured softly.

 

 _Why would I consciously let anyone see these? Why would I have shown them to you? It's my punishment for leaving you_ … _And we've only upgraded our relationship yesterday._

‘Sh, John. Not helping,’ he said lying on top of him, encouraging him to return to a reclining position. ‘I misspoke. Don't concern yourself with this. Shut your eyes, please. ‘

'Someday,' he murmured softly giving Sherlock's hand a squeeze. 'We'll take care of each other. Just like we always have. It's one of the things we do best. Look after each other.  I'm less concerned now than I was back when it just happened. Another thing we need to work through. At least for me. But another time,' he murmured softly.

‘There is nothing to work through, dear. I misspoke. I only want you to feel good. Now, close your eyes and relax, please,’ he said his voice soft but firm as he once again explored John’s shoulder before he started rubbing in the cream and massaging him in earnest. ‘You are still tense, still hurting. I’m taking care of you, taking that pain away,’ he said his voice deep and low, tracing convoluted patterns on John’s upper back. ‘Stop thinking and focus on what you feel. Your breathing. Your body becoming warmer. My hands on your back. My voice. ‘

John smiled voice slightly muffled. 'Mm... I'm trying to relax but when your voice goes all jaguar trapped in a cello it's a bit difficult to relax when parts of me want to do anything but. If any of my physical therapists had been half of half of how good you are, I might have stuck with therapy a bit longer.'

 _Jaguar trapped in a - what? Oh._ ‘Do you want me to stop?' Sherlock asked voice still low, stopping his movements.

'You stop and I'll make you eat the thing with peas every night for a week,' he threatened with a half-smile as he looked at Sherlock.

'I was merely asking. Don't want you to become... Uncomfortable,' Sherlock replied, looking straight back at him, his slightly pink cheekbones betraying him.

 _For Christ's sake, this is just a massage_ , he admonished himself.

John smirked. 'Mm we're definitely going to be talking about this more later. I can promise you that,' he chuckled. 'I'm a bit uncomfortable but it's nothing I can't deal with for now.'

‘Good. Good. Lie back then and let me continue. But do stop me if it becomes… Too much,’ he added aiming at sounding casual but missing by a mile. His acting skills had never failed him before.

John chuckled softly. 'Mm yes love. You're doing fine. I meant it. If any of my therapists had been anywhere nearly as good as you, I would have stuck with it. It's been a long time since my shoulder felt this loose.'

'I'm pleased to hear that you're feeling a bit better. That I'm helping. But I'm certain I can find a therapist much better than I am - it is her profession, after all,' he answered. 'Although on second thoughts...' he trailed off.

John chuckled. 'Mm whatever therapist I get and go to, they won't be as good as you. I can promise you that. Besides you'll be available whenever my shoulder needs work. I won't have to wait on an appointment to be available. You're better looking too I'll wager.'

Sherlock huffed. 'I certainly hope so.' He was glad that John had deemed it a good idea to ignore his latest sentence and reassuring him at the same time. 'Do you feel better, dear? Should we go back downstairs?’

John smiled. 'Mm in a minute. Come here.' Shifting he patted the bed. It was a bit narrow for the two of them but they'd manage. At least for right now. 'Was thinking I might take advantage of a few quiet minutes and just hold you...'

Sherlock obliged, a soft look on his face. He lay next to John, revelling in his warm embrace.

Smiling softly John gently ran his hand through Sherlock's dark curls. 'Mm... there. That's just what I needed most. Needed to have you in my arms again for a bit. Make sure you're real and all of this is real and I'm not dreaming.'

'Of course all of this is real, John. You had me touching your back for a while, how could that not be real? Or other things, for that matter?’

John shrugged slightly. 'I saw some pretty… interesting... things when I was out of my head with fever and pain meds after I got shot. You'd be surprised how real some things can be. Just that I've waited so long to have you here and get to hold you like this...' He kissed Sherlock softly cupping his cheek tenderly.

‘Rest assured John - rest assured this is very real, my dear,’ he said turning to face him. ‘I am very, very happy with how this waiting turned out - for both of us. Of course, there have been a few… setbacks. But in the end you - I - we have each other,’ he said in a soft voice, returning John’s kiss.

John smiled softly nuzzling his cheek. 'Despite some setbacks. Guess what matters in the end is we're here. Together. With Rosie. Best thing to ever happen to us.'

‘Exactly,’ Sherlock replied softly. ‘Together,’ he repeated, pulling John into a very tight embrace. ‘Focus on the here and now. You’re in my arms and I’m in yours. You’re relaxed and happy and so am I. Downstairs your - our - daughter is being doted on by both my parents. We are about to have Christmas snacks then Christmas dinner and tomorrow morning it will be Christmas Day. Nothing else matters - certainly not the past,’ he stated quietly. ‘Nothing is more important than the present, and the future - _our_ future,’ he said in a firm, serene tone.

Smiling softly John gently tangled his hand in Sherlock's curls gazing lovingly at him for a moment before kissing him. 'You're right. Of course you're right. You always know just what to say to cut through my worries and stop my thoughts from running away with me.'

‘The only one you’re allowed to run away with is me, dear,’ Sherlock declared, kissing him back, softly rubbing soothing circles on John’s back while caressing his neck. He heaved a deep sigh of contentment. Holding the man he...cared about most in the world, the man who saved him in so many ways, who broke him, who put him back together again… He didn’t believe in luck, or fate, or the intervention of any conceptual celestial being or any of these idiotic non scientifically proven so-called ‘facts’, but he could not find a rational reason to justify why John made him feel this way, safe, secure and loved or why John even wanted him in his life, or even why their paths had crossed to produce such an ever-evolving, if sometimes scarring result. Twice. Well. Three times, actually. But now they were… good. Happy and content. He suspected they would become happier and happier and more and more content as their… relationship evolved, even if there would be emotional pain which would be soothed immediately after.

John smiled nuzzling his nose gently. 'Suppose we should get back down there. I'm sure Rosie will be over the moon to get her presents and see Mycroft all dressed up. She's going to be so excited.'

‘Yes, we should,’ Sherlock replied, reluctantly loosening his hold on John. ‘One can only hope she will not recognise him. Even if she does, I am also of the mind that she will be thrilled,’ he added, picking up John’s t-shirt and jumper from the floor and giving them back to him.  

John stood on tiptoe to steal a kiss. 'She's going to be very excited and will probably be sure that Mycroft really IS Father Christmas,' he chuckled pulling his vest and jumper back on. Rolling his shoulder experimentally a few times he nodded. 'Better. Much better.'

Sherlock gave him a lopsided smile. 'I'm pleased. Although not surprised, if I consider your reactions.' He walked towards the door and opened it, holding it out open for John. 'After you, my dear,' he said, giving him a quick kiss as he passed in front of him.

John smiled up at him. 'Affectionate as a cat, aren't you. Next thing I know you'll be winding about my ankles wanting a scratch,' he teased.


	9. Father Christmas

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Mycroft as Father Christmas, cookies and presents.

John watched Rosie happily settled with Sherlock's parents as they watched the Nutcracker ballet on the telly. Slipping an arm around Sherlock's waist he leaned into him a bit.  
Greg smiled sheepishly, clearing his throat. 'Mycroft wanted me to give his apologies to everyone, but there was a very important meeting that came up suddenly and he had to go.'

‘Oh. That’s really very disappointing. Siger and I were hoping very strongly that both our sons would grace us with their presence this year,’ Violet declared, looking _very_ disappointed indeed. There was no wondering where Sherlock had learnt to become so talented at acting.

‘You know him, Mother. He could not stay away from work for long,’ Sherlock started with as much detachment as was possible. ‘Although I’m certain he would return eventually, if only for the feast you’ve prepared,’ he added with a smirk. ‘I’m certainly not going to be able to eat everything,’ he added as an afterthought.

John shook his head with a sigh. ‘He's not even here and you just can't resist taking a dig at him, can you? Maybe you two could at least _try_ and get along since it's Christmas.’  
Greg nodded. ‘Yeah, well, he said he hoped this wouldn't take too long and he'd get back here. Not even the snow could make him take a break from work when something important happens.’

‘I agree with John wholeheartedly,’ Violet told the room and especially Sherlock. ‘I hope he does take into account what you tell him, John, and listen to you more than he’s ever done his own mother. Lord knows it has taken me a very long while to get these two to behave - most of the time,’ she replied. ‘That’s my boys, always bickering over nothing and becoming passionate about one subject until exhaustion,’ she chuckled. ‘If Myc estimates this emergency should not take him too long, it is fair to say that it will not. I do hope his travels will not be too hindered by snow,’ she added looking thoughtfully at the window through which they could all see the snow still falling, faster and thicker as time passed.

Siger gave her shoulder a squeeze. ‘I wouldn't worry too much. He's got some of the best drivers. I think one of the one he has now is from some remote place in Siberia. Now if that isn't a qualification for knowing how to drive in snow, I don't know what is.’  
John smiled, watching Rosie carefully turn the pages of the photo album in her lap and gave a slight nod to Greg that the coast was clear for Mycroft to slip out while Rosie was occupied.

‘I can hear bells. Can’t you hear bells, John?’ Sherlock asked distractedly.

John smiled. ‘I believe I do. You know what bells mean, right Rosie? Don't Santa's reindeer have bells on them?’   
Looking up eyes wide she nodded. ‘Fanta Cwase!’  
Greg smiled. ‘Well it's Christmas Eve so I wouldn't be surprised if it _were_ him. I think he might be making a special stop to say hello to you instead of waiting for you to be asleep and leave your presents then.’

 

The front door opened, letting the cold from outside in as a wide red-dressed figure stepped through it. He was carrying what looked like a heavy sack which had him bend over to be certain to pass through the door.   
The Holmes’ front door was not particularly small, but it was not accommodating to people carrying wide objects.

‘Ho, ho, ho, sorry ‘bout that,’ he said cheerily. ‘I saw the lights were on. Dreadful weather. On such a lovely day. Was ‘bout to star’ my deliv’ry - but who is tha’ precious lit’le thing with golden hair?’ he said as if he had just noticed Rosie, who had come up to him as brave as her Daddy.

Greg smiled warmly getting the whole thing recorded on his phone. Unless someone knew it was Mycroft there was little to no chance they'd ever guess that it was him dressed up in the suit.

 

Rosie held on to John's hand peering curiously at Santa. John smiled. ‘It's all right sweetheart. Papa and I are right here. Do you want to go say hello?’ Nodding she held her hand up to Sherlock for a little extra moral support. ‘Yes.’ Bravely making her way to him she waved. ‘Hi. I'm Rosie.’

‘’ello, little Rosie,’ Father Christmas said cheerfully. ‘Pleased ter meet ye, little one. ’s a very pretty name ye have,’ he added. ‘’ave ye been a good girl this year? Maybe I shoul’ ask yer Papa ‘n’ yer Daddy - two fathers, eh? Ye’r a lucky on’, ‘m sure ye can’t be mor’ cherished,’ he said approvingly, a smile spreading through his thick white beard.

Letting go of John and Sherlock's hands she wrapped her arms around Santa's legs hugging him tightly. "Rosie good." She nodded. "Love Daddy, Papa, Uncle Gweg, Uncle Mycroft, Grammy Hudders, Aunt Mowwy, an' Granmmy and Grampy." Thinking she cocked her head trying to think of more people she knew.  
John smiled squeezing Sherlock's hand. ‘So proud of her. Lots of kids completely lose their minds seeing Santa for the first time and she's treating him like her new best friend. I'm sure your brother has no idea who Hagrid is, but he made a good choice. Molly showed her Harry Potter and she loves Hagrid.’

Sherlock squeezed John’s hand back. ‘We do have to admit she has inherited her father’s bravery. Going to a stranger and treating him as a friend. It _is_ impressive and you can be proud of her,’ he replied, smiling. ‘If Molly showed her Harry Potter, I’m sure she talked about her reactions with Greg who then told Mycroft all about it. Nothing Mycroft does is not thought-out,’ he countered. ‘I wonder however what can be appealing about this Hagrid character if he speaks that way?’ he wondered.

John smiled up at Sherlock. ‘She felt safe enough to do it because we were right here. She knows she's safe and nothing can hurt her when she's with us so why not make a new friend?’ Chuckling he shook his head. ‘Well however it came about, the Hagrid impression's very clever. I'll have to thank Molly for the idea.’

‘I’m sure they love ye all very much, just like ye do. Ye’ve bin a good girl ‘n’ yer dads confirm it. Ye know wha’ this means, eh?’ he asked in a jovial tone.

 

Violet came and bent over Rosie. She knew better than to kneel on the hard floor of hers and Siger’s house. ‘You are going to be given presents, sweetheart. You might want more room around you, Father Christmas does seem to have a rather heavy sack,’ she told her lightly. She knew that Rosie was enjoying her first meeting with Father Christmas, and she could hardly be prouder of Mycroft to give her this experience.  
Rosie smiled up at Santa gently taking his hand with a bit of a tug. ‘Sit.’ Remembering her manners she smiled up at him. ‘Pwease. Wan' ‘ot chocwate an' bizzycuts?’ It was a very important part of meeting Santa, making sure that he got a snack.

Mycroft knew what his brother was thinking. Another jibe, of course, but he wouldn’t say it and spoil Rosie’s meeting with Father Christmas. As their mother had told Sherlock, he ‘always had been the grown up’. His mother and father’s expressed nothing but pride at seeing their son taking up the mission he had assigned himself to in order to make it up to Sherlock. John was...not proud of him, but he could tell in his relaxed posture and the smile he had given him when he’d greeted Rosie who had looked back at him, her eyes full of wonder, that John was in fact very happy. Gregory’s eyes twinkled warmly and pride swelled his chest - he could tell. He could _always_ tell - as he saw him on his phone, evidently recording the whole thing so that Rosie would have memories of it.

Greg watched Mycroft with pride. He might not have much experience with children but he was doing a hell of a job with Rosie, keeping her engaged. It was obvious the little girl was completely in awe of him.

‘Yes, if ye don’ mind. I’ve heard yer Grandma’s biscuits wer’ excellen’ ‘n’ I’m sure ye’ve tried a few, haven’ ye?’, he asked her, chuckling.

Rosie nodded with a giggle. ‘Yummy!’ Holding his hand she led him to a comfortable chair before climbing up to sit on his lap. She took a biscuit from a plate on the table beside the chair and offered it to him.  
John watched her proudly. He always encouraged her to share. Smiling at them he lightly stroked the back of Sherlock's hand with his thumb. ‘I'm so proud of her.’   
Sherlock nodded. ‘Quite right, too,’ he whispered. He had no idea what else he was supposed to be saying. It was best to stick to his thoughts - and committing the memory of Rosie’s first Christmas Eve to her own wing in his Mind Palace. He did have a difficult time - Mycroft was dressed up, but Greg was a walking display of the activities he had had with his brother. Sherlock had really tried to focus on Rosie’s happiness and enjoyment, but the more time passed the more difficult it became not to read anything. He squeezed John’s hand lightly. ‘I’m going to sit down on the sofa,’ he whispered. John frowned slightly. ‘I really am proud of Rosie and happy that she’s so pleased, John. Of course I am. It’s just…’ he trailed off, waving his hand in Greg’s then Mycroft’s general direction.

John smiled. "Can you delete the idea of them… You know... like that? Just delete that room or file or whatever?’ he questioned softly doing his best to help Sherlock with the situation. ‘Like you did with the solar system. Unimportant so you can just delete it entirely.’

Sherlock shook his head softly, a forlorn look on his face. ‘Not unless I delete the person - and I can’t do that. I just have to get used to it, train myself not to read _that_ particular piece of information. Thank you for trying, John.’ He sat down on the sofa and put a blanket around himself. _Protection of sorts. Mustn’t think. Focus on Rosie. Focus on John. Ignore the rest. Breathe. Breathing’s boring, but breathe._

_Ah. So that’s what’s put him in such a state_ , Mycroft reflected as he saw from the corner of his eye the gestures Sherlock was making, however discreetly. _There isn’t much I can do... Speak to Greg about… part of it might be a good start._ Evidently he would do that later, in the privacy of their own bedroom. For the moment, however, he returned all his attention to the little girl offering him a biscuit which he gladly accepted. He ate it, savoured it - his mother’s baking really was delicious. And they wondered why he had a sweet tooth - took a few others and drank the beverage she offered him.

He let out a sigh of satisfaction and stretched a little before turning to face Rosie. ‘These wer’ really yummy, ye wer’ right. Now, I’ve got a few somethings fer ye ‘cos ye’ve bin such a good girl,’ he told her, a broad smile splitting his face.

Rosie smiled up at him eyes bright. Nodding she watched him eager to get presents but basking in the joy of her first meeting with Santa. And he'd come to see her! Actually come to see _her_. He hadn't just come in the middle of the night and left her presents and a note like Daddy had said.

  
Violet smiled, discreetly dabbing her eyes with one of Siger's handkerchiefs. The fact that Mycroft was going to such lengths to make things up to Sherlock and make Rosie's first Christmas very special was more than she could ever have expected. She liked Greg. He was obviously a good man. One who'd come along and saved both her boys. It was a bit too bad about John's wife. But she'd never liked that woman. Not at all. They really were better off without her. Vivian had sacrificed herself to solve the matter.

 

‘Now, kiddo. I’m sure ye’r wonderin’ why I came to see ye, eh? Well, firs’ Chris’mas is always mor’ important than all the others’, innit? Now let’s have a look at yer presents, eh?’ he said merrily. ‘How many have we got there, then? A couple, a couple,’ he said, pulling eight well-wrapped presents out of his sack.

They all watched with intense joy as delight illuminated Rosie’s features as she beheld her numerous presents, not knowing with which to start. ‘Maybe yer dads would want ter ‘elp ye decide wher’ ter start,’ he suggested.

 

John squeezed Sherlock’s hand. "Just focus on Rosie and how excited she is. Make yourself forget that certain parts of their relationship even exist. You want me to sit with you? We can still see Rosie just fine from here."

‘ _Ignore_ rather than forget but it should work all the same. I only need time to get used to it. If you don’t mind sitting with me, I’ll gladly accept,’ he replied. ‘Is that…? And here you claim to be quite incommoded when _I_ do science experiments,’ he chuckled. ‘That’s a really good gift, I’m certain she will enjoy it tremendously,’ he added. It was less difficult to focus on Rosie and not the other… distractions the room was providing him with than he had expected. She was opening that first present and evidently rejoiced in it, showing him the box from afar.   
John nodded to the chemistry set knowing Rosie would be excited to show it to Sherlock and do experiments just like he did. ‘It does seem that you have another scientist at home, John,’ he said, smiling widely to Rosie.

 

‘Ohoh, a chemistry set!  Grownup present, innit?’ commented Father Christmas. ‘I know ye’ll ‘andle it just fine! On’ of yer da’s a scientist, eh?’ he added, chuckling lightly.

‘Oh, John. Found a reason for me to… partake in Rosie’s joy and divert my… attention, haven’t you?’ Sherlock said lightly. ‘I do appear to be the exception to your observation skills,’ he noted, passing his arm around John’s shoulders. ‘What’s in the other boxes, I wonder,’ Sherlock wondered aloud, his voice clear and loud enough that Rosie would hear him.

Rosie smiled widely. ‘Me an' Papa do 'spearmints! Big girls do 'spearamints!’ John nodded shifting slightly to lean into Sherlock a bit more and give him another point of physical contact to help ground and distract him. ‘I can see that! You and Papa are going to do so many experiments together. I bet Papa's got a lab coat and goggles you can wear.’ Pressing a kiss to Sherlock's cheek he smiled. ‘If there's a way to distract you when you need it, I'm going to try and find it.’  
  
Rosie pointed to another box. One the perfect size for a doll. ‘Dat one. Pease.’ John nodded. "’Very good choice sweetheart. And you remembered your manners. So proud of you.’

‘That we are, honey. We _all_ are proud of you,’ intoned Mr Holmes.

‘A doll, eh? Hang on, Rosie - isn’t that your _favourite_ Disney Princess?’ Greg asked, faking surprise. ‘What a beautiful dress she has! And her face is very expressive, too!’ he exclaimed. ‘Remind me, sweetheart, what’s her name?’

Sherlock focussed harder on Rosie’s joy, but it was difficult with Greg reminding him of his presence. Mycroft had caught on, that much was certain given the looks he sporadically threw his way. Greg, however, remained oblivious.

John leaned into Sherlock. ‘Just focus on Rosie. And me. She's so thrilled to have a chemistry set and do experiments like you. Your experiments fascinate her to no end. She loves hearing about them. Now she'll get to do things WITH you.’  
Rosie smiled brightly. ‘Belle!’ Hugging the doll she touched the dress gently. ‘Pretty.’

 

Mr and Mrs Holmes were both on the side, not wanting to be on camera and spoil the film of Rosie’ first Christmas. They did see everything from the table where they were sitting, Mr Holmes noted the delight their honorary granddaughter had in opening her presents - and it was infectious, even if Sherlock still seemed... out of sorts, for some reason. He would have thought John and Sherlock would sit closer to Rosie to help her unwrapping her presents. He knew that his wife had noticed it. Nevertheless he pointed them out discreetly to her. ‘What’s happening there?’ he asked in a whisper.

Violet sighed with a half-smile. ‘Mm nothing's happening. Just Sherlock trying to ignore the fact that his older brother and one of his best friends are “dating”. I think John's got things handled'.  
Siger nodded. ‘John really is a good man for our Sherlock. It was high time both of them decided to acknowledge their relationship. I admit I’ve had my doubts they would ever realise the truth, what with John marrying - but he _is_ a good man. Even if Mycroft had to call us,’ Siger replied.

 

Focussing on the warmth of John’s presence, his hold around John’s shoulder tighter, Sherlock let out a deep breath. He was evidently controlling his breathing, but he found that this technique added to John’s reassuring proximity and soothing voice helped abate what would undoubtedly have turned into a much less pleasant experience for everyone in the room. ‘Thank you,’ he whispered so low that he wasn’t sure John had heard him. ‘She will, yes,’ he replied his voice still upset. _Keep it together, Holmes_ , he admonished himself. ‘I’ll teach her how to properly handle specimens and chemicals – safe chemicals, John, obviously - the correct posture to have in front of a microscope, the safety conduct to adopt at all times when experimenting, especially near chemicals... Rosie is an explorer in the making. In time I’m certain she will give her name to a chemical reaction or something else she will have discovered.’   
Rosie was fascinated by her doll’s dress. He smiled. ‘Are you wondering if you would ever own any sort of clothing as pretty as her dress?’ he asked her innocently.

Rosie nodded with a smile stroking the doll's dress. ‘Yeah. Pretty dwess. Sparkwy.’

John smiled reaching up to give Sherlock's hand a squeeze. ‘I know you'll be careful. Baking soda and vinegar volcanos, food colouring in water to make different colours. I know you'd never do a dangerous experiment with her.’ Pressing a kiss to his cheek he smiled. ‘I know this is hard, but I'm proud of you for holding it together for Rosie's sake. She's so happy. And you're a _big_ part of her being this happy.’  
Sherlock smiled softly. ‘Am I?’ he whispered. ‘If you say I am, it must be true. You’re a terrible liar,’ he added in a tone that he wanted to be teasing. He squeezed his hand, took a very deep breath and stood up. ‘This one looks very curious. Can you try to deduce what it can be?’ Sherlock asked Rosie, crouching next to her and showing her a packet lacking any sort of solidity next to her.

His mother looked at him proudly, smiling encouragingly. _You are doing very well,_ she mouthed. _Proud of you, son_ , his father silently added.

John smiled from his spot on the sofa watching Sherlock with pride. He knew this wasn't easy for Sherlock but he was trying. More than that, he was trying for Rosie. Doing it to be an even bigger part of her first Christmas. Every time he thought he couldn't love Sherlock more, he was proven wrong and fell even more in love with him.

 

Rosie smiled eagerly showing her doll to Sherlock. ‘Papa! Look, Belle! Preddy dwess!’ Reluctant to let go of the doll she compromised holding it out to him. ‘You hold.’ Taking the box she shook it a bit head cocked as she listened. Tearing into the package her eyes went wide as the top slid off to reveal a dress fit for a princess nestled in the tissue paper. Picking it up carefully she squealed with joy hugging the dress tightly. ‘Me a pwincess! Like Belle! Look Papa!!’

A grin split Sherlock's face. 'Of course you are a princess, Rosie! And a brave, clever one, I shall add,' he said proudly. 'Like Belle,' he chuckled. 'You're better than her,' he corrected. 'She is, however, a good model,' he quickly added. 'It isn't out of the realm of possibilities...' he cut himself short. 'What is possible, Rosie? About your remaining presents?' he asked. Christmas was a good time for her to practise deducing, she had made some deductions already: he was confident she could deduce more. Unless her emotions impaired her reasoning abilities, as they did him.

'Come help Rosie with her presents, John d-' he cut himself for a split second, reluctant to use the term of endearment for the whole of his family to hear. John really looked... happy. He could see no reason not to keep him feeling so... good. John himself made him feel safe, protected and happy. He knew he would particularly appreciate it. '-ear. She's your princess, too,' he said beckoning him to come closer.

John smiled picking up the small bundle that her leggings were wrapped in. ‘Why don't you try and figure out what's in this one.’ He leaned into Sherlock resting his head on his shoulder for a moment. ‘It might be something to wear with your dress.’  
Rosie took the package squeezing it with a giggle. ‘Squishy! Smoosh! I wear wif dwess?’  
John smiled. ‘Yes sweetie. With your dress. What do we usually put under your dresses so you can run better?’  
‘LEGGINGS!’ she squealed tearing into the package and hugging them.

Sherlock chuckled. ‘You’re a very fine deductionist, Rosie, darling. And a very pretty princess-’ he paused for dramatic effect ‘but I don’t think... Yes. I think there might be something else that _only_ princesses should wear,’ he continued. ‘To keep their head straight,’ he added, putting great emphasis on the word ‘head’.

Looking thoughtful she patted her head before mimicking Sherlock's thinking pose with her little hands pressed together and eyes closed. ‘Hat?’ Pouting slightly she shook her head. ‘Not hat. Cwown?’ Blond curls bouncing she shook her head again face scrunched as she tried the word. ‘Tea-ara?’ Opening one eye a tiny bit to see if she was right she looked to Sherlock and John for approval.

Sherlock gave her a subtle nod, and a beaming smile a second later. ‘You’re so smart, sweet little one!’ he exclaimed. ‘I wouldn’t have said anything else. I am immensely proud of you, darling. It is the best deduction you’ve done so far,’ he said hugging her. ‘Now, let’s see what it looks like. I’m sure the elves put great effort in making one for such a special little lady,’ he added, extending his hand towards a solid rectangular packet.

‘I am _absolutely positive_ they did,’ Sherlock’s mother said with finality.

‘Yeah, instructions wer’ very precise,’ chuckled Father Christmas.

Happily hugging Sherlock, Rosie nodded with a smile. ‘Yes pwease.’ Smiling up at Santa she patted his cheek. ‘I love you Santa.’  
John chuckled softly. ‘Good job saying please, sweetheart. I'm sure Santa appreciates you being so polite and sweet to him. Why don't you let Papa help you open your present and put it on the right way.’   
‘Complet’ly appreciate that, yeah. ‘N’ for someon’ so young, too!’ Father Christmas replied, nodding. Greg smiled winking at Mycroft. He was really going above and beyond to make this special for Rosie.  
Nodding she held the box out to Sherlock. ‘Papa help pwease.’

‘Of course, darling,’ Sherlock assured her, taking the present she held to him and delicately opening it. ‘Ah, this is a delicate affair, Rosie. We don’t want to risk breaking it, do we?’

Snuggling into Santa comfortably she watched Sherlock with wide eyes. ‘Careful Papa.... Gentuhl.’  
‘Yes, of course, your Highness,’ Sherlock replied, focussed on unlacing the tightly-knotted ribbon around the _second_ box the tiara was held in. ‘It is absolutely _splendid_! Fit for a Princess, Rosie.’ Sherlock declared, showing her the jewel held in a simple, white silk covered jewellery case. The tiara was made of silver ringlets set in an intricate pattern. In the middle of it rested two hearts made of two several amethyst gemstones.

Eyes going wide she reached out a finger to touch it gently. ‘Pweddy... Imma pwincess now!’  
John smiled. ‘You always have been sweetheart. This just makes it a bit more official.’

Sherlock knew that his parents were particularly taken with Rosie - but he had no idea how much thought they had put into this. Of course, someone had told them that Sherlock had found her an absolutely gorgeous princess dress, and they had quite obviously known about the chase for the leggings. As his mother couldn't bear anything incomplete, she and his father had wanted to complete the outfit. He was incredulous. How fine and delicate the jewel was! How exquisite!  
Rosie was simply adored and spoilt. Even he, who never cared for that, thought so.  
'I agree with your Daddy,' he said taking the delicate piece of jewellery in his hands. 'Let's make it even more official, shall we?' he said as he held it a little higher and set it lightly on her golden locks. 'Beautiful, princess,' he declared.

 

Siger slipped his arm around his wife's waist kissing her temple. ‘Looks like Mycroft's really taking to his role as Father Christmas isn't he.’  
Mrs Holmes discreetly dabbed her eye. Her sons were clearly setting their issues aside for the sake of her granddaughter, Sherlock and John's daughter who was awed and evidently overjoyed at the amount of presents and their quality - not to mention the love surrounding her. Children felt emotions, and she appeared to be as much at ease here as she was in Baker Street. She smiled. Yes, it was a bit much but how could they resist making their granddaughter's first Christmas so special. It was a small thing to make her so happy.

 

Touching it gently she smiled brightly at everyone. ‘Me see?’ Switching his phone camera around he handed it to her. ‘Look there. That's my beautiful little Princess Rosie. You'll wear that on very special occasions, won't you? We'll put it up on a shelf so you can see it but it's not to wear all the time.’

Nodding she smiled. ‘Ok Daddy.’ Beaming at Sherlock she patted his cheek. ‘Papa pwince.’

'Well, I'll tell ye wha',' said Father Christmas as he took another biscuit, ''s not often I can see such a lovin' family with me own eyes. If ye don't mind, I'd like ter stay till the lil' on' 's opened all her presents,' he asked.  
'Given how Rosie loves you, I shouldn't think it would be a problem,' Sherlock replied. He didn't acknowledge Mycroft's comment out loud, but merely nodded. Of course he was aware of all the efforts Mycroft had and was putting into obtaining Sherlock's forgiveness for his earlier... outburst; however Sherlock had not completely recovered. He would probably voice his... Forgiveness on the following day. Rosie nodded with a bright smile. ‘Santa stay. Have more bizzycuts. Very yum!’ she exclaimed, nibbling on one.  
John smiled. ‘That's very nice of him to stay when I'm sure he has lots of other kids to see. He's making a special effort to spend time with you.’

'And that effort is greatly appreciated,' commented Mrs Holmes brightly. 'By all of us,' she added. Sherlock nodded.  
'Remind me, Rosie, darling. What is Belle's... What makes Belle special? That you also love very, very much?'

Rosie listened intently before nodding with a bright smile. ‘Books! I love books!’  
John laughed. ‘We know. You love when Papa or I take you to the library for story time and Papa's always reading things to you.’

'I'll let you in onto something, darling. Papa and Daddy love it, too,' he told her. 'Reading!' he exclaimed. 'This is what helps build great minds. There is not the slightest doubt in my mind that yours will be very great indeed,' he uttered. 'I wonder what your other presents are.

John chuckled. ‘We're very happy you love to read. Papa and I both really like reading. We're happy you like it too. You can have a story whenever you want. Papa and I always have time for stories with you.’

'That we do,' Sherlock acquiesced.

‘Love weading,’ she nodded. Looking at the other presents with a smile she pointed at one. ‘Dat one pwease Papa! You hold an' I open.’

Sherlock held the present Rosie had requested. 'Is this...?'

She nodded with a smile. ‘Yes pwease Papa. Pweddy paper.’  
John chuckled. ‘The elves did a bang up job wrapping everything. Such lovely paper and ribbons and bows. They're almost too nice to open,’ he teased her.  
Shaking her head she smiled at Sherlock. ‘We open!’

'Yes! John Watson you are a cruel, cruel man to even suggest we don't,' he tutted before proceeding to untie the ribbon for Rosie, and letting her finish.

 

Rosie giggled pulling the ribbon off and waving the iridescent bit of fabric in the air. ‘Pweddy wibbon. I keep? Pwease? Put in my hair?’  
John laughed. ‘Sure sweetheart. You can keep it and we'll put it in your hair and you'll look even prettier than usual.’

Sherlock chuckled. ‘Anything for our little princess’, he agreed. ‘Within reason,’ he added, recalling John’s worry about Rosie becoming… rude and thinking that she were entitled to everything she wanted.

‘Haha, listen ter yer Papa, little one,’ Father Christmas laughed, eyes shining with amusement at Sherlock’s statement, advocating the exact opposite of his own actions. He did not however voice his thoughts. Mycroft had promised to try and be better and apologise for his behaviour, and he was a man of his word. He continued watching the scene before him and Gregory behind his camera who was recording everything. He subtly raised his glass to him.

Greg grinned giving him a wink. He'd never seen this side of Mycroft and it was a nice change. He knew it wasn't easy for him to hold his tongue on things when it came to Sherlock but he was making a real effort at it.

  
Rosie nodded holding the ribbon out to Sherlock. ‘Papa do my hair? Pwease?’   
John chuckled softly watching them. He'd come home one day to find Rosie sitting in Sherlock's chair attaching every hair clip she had to Sherlock's curls making them stick up in all directions. Rosie had obviously been giving a lot of thought into which clip went where. The whole time Sherlock sat patiently holding up a mirror and complimenting Rosie's work.

Sherlock smiled. 'Of course, darling,' he replied, taking the ribbon Rosie was holding out to him. 'Don't you want to finish opening up your presents? There would only be more ribbons to do your hair,' he reasoned.

Taking a minute to think about it she nodded. ‘Yes. Keep wibbon otay.’ Looking at the other boxes she pointed to one. ‘Dat one pwease.’ Opening it excitedly she squealed with delight hugging the plush otter tightly. ‘Daddy! Papa! Look! Odder!’

Sherlock looked at John and let a half-hearted sigh escape his lips as he shook his head before turning to smile brightly at the evident joy Rosie had with that new plush. 'Adorable! He (or she?) will be an excellent companion to Bee. Another plush to play with,' he replied.

‘Bee an' odder fwends,’ she nodded hugging it tight and rubbing her cheek against the soft fur.  
John smiled. ‘There's another one right by it sweetie. Why don't you open that one’ He knew Sherlock would appreciate the hedgehog being included.  
Taking the package carefully Rosie opened it. ‘HEDGIE!’ She giggled hugging the plush tight.

Sherlock smiled broadly at John. _Of course a hedgehog was needed. Otters are fierce warriors but easily bored. What better companion than a hedgehog?_ 'Isn't that wonderful, Rosie darling? Two more friends for Bee, two softer friends for you to hug.'

Rosie kissed the Hedgehog's nose patting it. ‘Odder an' Hedgie an' Bee bestest fwends. Dey sleep wif me?’ She looked between John and Sherlock.  
John smiled. ‘Well of _course_ they will! And I'm sure the four of you will have all sorts of amazing adventures in your dreams.’

 

'An otter... A hedgehog... I wonder why the image seems familiar,' Mrs Holmes chuckled, winking at her son and his partner.  
Siger chuckled. ‘Quite appropriate I think. It suits them quite well. Good to see Rosie choosing such wonderful animals as her favourites.’

'The very best of friends. I agree with Daddy, I can't think of a reason why they wouldn't. And resist all the adventures you'd tell them? No, my lady, that is simply not possible,' Sherlock added.

Hugging them tight she smiled. ‘Daddy where bee?’  
Handing over the soft plush bee he kissed the top of her head. ‘There now. All of them are together. Otter and Hedgie and Bee.’  
‘Look Papa! All bestest fwends.’ She smiled at Sherlock.

Sherlock chuckled. 'I can see that, darling. Look at them, they are all smiling. Difficult not to when such a nice little girl offers her friendship so readily, I imagine,' he commented. 'And who must we thank for being so nice?' he asked, pointedly looking at John.

Smiling she kissed her hand before blowing it to John. Catching it he pretended to tuck it in his pocket.

  
Greg smiled at the scene. He was very proud of how sweet Rosie was turning out to be. He'd willingly fight anyone who dared suggest Sherlock was anything but an amazing parent and role model for Rosie.

Sherlock smiled at John, so warmly he might as well have kissed him, witnesses be damned. Deciding to settle for the next best thing, he rose up to sit beside John. At home he might have scooted up, but the situation was... different. He did not want to appear as an overgrown child or teenager in front of his parents and Greg. Mycroft, well. He knew he was. Mycroft knew everything. His big brother had watched him long enough.

 

John smiled putting his arm across the back of the sofa and letting his fingers lightly rest on his shoulder as a point of grounding. ‘Never would have thought your brother would get so into doing this. If I didn't know better, I'd say he's actually enjoying doing this for Rosie. I think he's a bit fonder of her than he'd like to admit.’

Sherlock put his head back and sighed, thankful for John's presence. 'Quite obviously,' he agreed. 'You've grown more and more observant, my dear,' he added turning his head to deposit a soft kiss on John's wrist. 'Isn't there one more present for her? I could have sworn I had counted one more,' Sherlock mused.

‘I think your brother may be saving the best for last. I'm sure he knows what was in each one of them. He probably knew what we were getting her before we did.’ He laughed gently toying with Sherlock's soft curls. ‘You do know that Rosie will be putting all her new ribbons in your hair the first chance she gets. I've told her to be gentle when she plays with your hair.’

'Yes, I know she will,' he replied in a tone that showed he was perfectly fine with it. 'I appreciate it very much, you know. That you told her to be gentle. My scalp is... A somewhat sensitive area,' he added moving his head so as to incite John not only to toy with his hair but also caress his scalp. 'You seem to be fascinated by my hair,' he mused.

John smiled pressing a light kiss on top of Sherlock's head. 'Because it's one of the first things I noticed about you, bent over the microscope like that. I thought I'd never seen curls like that. And that they looked incredibly soft and I wanted to touch them and see if they were as soft as I thought.' Gently rubbing his scalp he smiled. 'She's very careful with your curls. Guess she's as fascinated by them as I am.'

‘There is nothing to be fascinated about,’ Sherlock retorted in a huff. ‘It’s just my hair. Far from being as fascinating as my dazzling intellect and personality,’ he added. ‘And before you ask, of course I’ve got that from a book. How many ribbons have we got Rosie?’ he asked after a short pause. ‘We must have enough to do your hair. And to colour coordinate with your outfits,’ he reasoned.

Looking at her handfuls of pretty ribbons she counted them. ‘Seven. I gots seven.’ Nodding she smiled. ‘Lots of pweddy wibbons. I share wif Papa. Make his hair pweddy too!’  
John snickered. ‘That's right sweetheart. You and Sherlock can have matching ribbons in your hair. You'll be quite the pair.’

Sherlock heaved a long suffering sigh. 'Rosie didn't say I was a princess, dear. But I suppose, if she really wants to put ribbons in my hair as well as I in hers… much as it costs me to, I have to oblige her,' he declared affecting to make a grand sacrifice.

Laughing softly he nuzzled Sherlock's curls softly. ‘Oh you know you love sitting for her and letting her play with your hair. Next she'll be wanting to do your nails after one of us does hers.’

Sherlock huffed 'I'm certain Rosie will have more important preoccupations that having her nails done. Having too much nail proves problematic to playing the violin, as you may have noticed.'  
Rosie opened another package. ‘Book! Daddy, Papa, look! Pwincess book wif Belle an' me!!!’  
John smiled. ‘Well, I wonder what grand adventures you and Belle will have in that book.’  
He smiled. 'Best for last, indeed,' he told John. 'Whatever these adventures may be you will have your three companions to count on,' he told Rosie with a large smile.

John smiled. ‘Why don't you look at the picturesm sweetheart? Tell us who else went on adventures with you.’ Chuckling he stroked Sherlock's shoulder with his thumb. ‘Oh I doubt she'll have long fake nails but most little girls get fascinated with being able to paint their nails. It's a lot easier when someone does it for you. I know I was Harry's guinea pig for testing which colours she liked.’  
  
Opening the book she giggled. ‘Wosie an' Bee an' Odder and Hedgie wif Belle!’

'And Harry couldn't decide otherwise?' Sherlock asked, incredulous. 'I never had troubled when a disguise required that sort of accessory,' he added.

John shrugged. ‘She was indecisive. I'd have as many as twenty colours on me. Fingers and toes. I found out it was best to just sit still and accept my fate rather than run, try to hide, and have her drag me out.’

'You did live through it. I can't imagine how I would have reacted if Mycroft had used me in that way. Then again, I don't know why Mycroft would have even needed to.’

‘Mycroft never used you for one of his experiments? I'm shocked,’ John laughed softly. ‘I didn't mind it too much. It was better to have Harry painting my nails than having her try and kill me for whatever reason.’

'Not that I recall, no,' Sherlock answered truthfully. 'Being seven years older than I, I imagine he had found others to subject to his… experiments – which were, I am certain, a study in manipulation, as his current position indicates.’

John laughed. ‘Well thank heaven for small favours.’

 

'Where did all five of you go, my darling?' he asked Rosie. He knew she would enjoy this book a lot, as she had a vivid imagination - and enjoyed an audience, just as he did.  
Rosie looked at the pages. "Chip hidin' We find. Playin' hide an' feek."

'Hide and seek. A very interesting game. Full of potential. You can learn a lot about your friends in that game. And of course, it helps sharpen your sense of observation. A very good choice of activity,' Sherlock complimented her.  
Nodding she smiled at Sherlock. ‘I deduce where he hidin'!’

Sherlock smiled at her. 'Very good, Rosie. Can you explain your deduction, then, darling? That is something you will have to learn to do because people don't usually take our deductions for granted. They seem to want proof, for some reason,' he told her. 'But if you can't do that now, it's alright. We will work on it, you still have time before being confronted to the... narrow-minded and limited opinions of others,' he reassured her.

Looking through the pictures carefully she nodded listening to him. ‘I founded him Papa! I founded him! Him was hidin' under th' curtain. See his foot!!’ she pointed at the bit of the teacup peeking out from under a long curtain.  
‘Good job sweetie. You're getting to be a very good detective.’

'Very good indeed, darling,' he complimented her again. 'I am certain you will become an excellent detective when you grow up. In the meantime, we will sharpen your already acute sense of observation when you and I go outside.

‘Outside? More snow?’ She smiled brightly. Playing in the snow was fun. It was all sparkly and pretty. And when it got cold, there was hot chocolate waiting inside with freshly made biscuits.

Sherlock laughed good-heartedly. ‘Yes, darling. Outside, in the snow. There you can start wondering about footprints, as well. But I see from the glint in your blue eyes that you are thinking about playing in the snow.’ He laughed once more. ‘I am certain that there will still be quite enough snow later. I do think you had enough for one day. What would we do if you got sick? We will go tomorrow, I promise,’ he reassured her.

‘Tomorrow. Pwomise?’ she pouted a bit looking at him, resembling a very irritated baby hedgehog. ‘Not fick. Nope. Pway in snow.’  
John smiled. ‘It'll be nice and fresh in the morning. You can look and see the footprints of the birds and rabbits and squirrels and follow them. You and Papa can figure out where they came from and where they went. I'm sure you could leave some food out for them. They'd appreciate it.’  
Looking a bit less annoyed she pinned Sherlock with her gaze. ‘Pwomise.’

Sherlock knelt in front of her and locked his eyes with the utmost seriousness as he extended his hand towards her. ‘I promise,’ he declared solemnly. ‘And while you have a very commanding stare, we will perfect it,’ he whispered. ‘Would that suit your Highness?’ he asked, before inclining his head.

Patting his head gently she smiled leaning forward to kiss his curls. ‘Otay. Snow morrow mornin'. Love Papa.’  
John chuckled. ‘I think she's developing the famous Holmes stare. Working on perfecting it.’

‘“The famous Holmes stare”, John? What in the world do you mean?’

‘That apparently Rosie's copied your “I'm very put out at the world right now and someone should do something about it immediately!” stare,’ he laughed warmly.

‘I don’t have any such… stare. I _always_ feel aggravated at the world,’ he countered petulantly.

‘And you have the look right now.’ Laughing he took a picture of the two of them wearing identical annoyed looks. ‘My little hedgehog and her otter Papa looking very put out right now.’ Showing the picture to Sherlock he smiled. ‘Told you.’

Sherlock huffed. 'Be that as it may, I imagine that this look always enables me to obtain what I desire. Especially from you,' he added in a low voice, certain that no one would hear him.

‘And that's why I love it and know she'll use it against both of us to get what she wants!’

he chuckled leaning down to kiss him lightly.  
Rosie giggled. ‘My turn!’ Kissing her cheek loudly John hugged her. ‘That's my little princess.’

‘Well, lit’le Rosie‘s opened all her presents now. D’you like ‘em?’ Father Christmas asked.

Nodding she hugged him tightly kissing her cheek. ‘Yes! Fank you! I wuv you! Take bizzycuts wif you for snack.’

‘Yeah, tha’ I will, yeah. Yer Grandma’s biscuits ar’ really delicious. Thank you all. I’ll see ya next year - and Rosie? I’m glad ye loved yer firs’ Chris’mas,’ he told the little girl. ‘A good nigh’ ter all,’ he said as he walked through the door, ‘and ter all a good nigh’,’ he finished as he closed the door and made his way to continue on with his deliveries.

Rosie rushed to the window waving until he was out of sight. Hugging her stuffed animals she yawned rubbing her eyes.   
  
John scooped her up gently. ‘I think it's about time some little princess got to bed.’  
‘Papa storwy?’ she mumbled half asleep.

‘Of course, my darling princess. I’ll read one for you, just as I always do. But first you have to get ready for bed.’

‘Otay,’ she mumbled around her thumb that had found its way to her mouth in her sleepy state.   
John smiled. ‘Help me get her into her warm pyjamas, would you? Then we'll tuck her into her cot and she'll be out like a light.’

Sherlock smiled and retrieved the pyjamas John had packed for her. ‘It appears our little angel is almost gone to fairyland,’ Sherlock whispered as he finished fastening the buttons on her pyjamas. He took her in his arms and went in the direction of the stairs. ‘She’s had so many emotions and played so much, she has exerted herself. Let us put her properly to sleep, dear.’

John smiled watching Sherlock take such good care of Rosie. ‘She's worn herself out. I was a bit worried she'd have a meltdown being so tired. Glad we avoided it. Just tuck her in and she probably won't even wake up.’  
Tucking the blankets around her and making sure her animals were with her he kissed the top of her head. ‘Sweet dreams little angel.

‘Good night, sweet little one. Have the most wondrous adventures with your friends,’ Sherlock added, kissing the tip of his fingers and placing them on her soft slightly chubby cheek. He then took John’s hand in his. ‘I am really happy she had such a fantastic day,’ he whispered so as not to wake her.

‘Me too. You helped make her first Christmas incredibly special. You and your parents really went above and beyond with all the presents. They were all perfect. She's going to treasure all of them. Especially because they come from people who mean so much to her,’ he leaned into Sherlock nuzzling his cheek.


	10. And To All A Good Night

Mycroft returned soon after he heard Sherlock and John go upstairs to put little Rosie to sleep. He had taken off the costume of Father Christmas and donned his usual crisp three-piece suit and elegant shoes. As he entered the room, his parents were engaged in conversation with Gregory who seemed to have finally let go of his anxiety. The giving of presents and his filming of the whole moment had helped make him feel belong, that much was obvious. ‘Mother, Father, I trust you are not harassing Gregory with embarrassing questions?’ he asked, his tone light but with an undertone of worry.

'Pish!' His mother waved a hand with a smile. 'We haven't broken out the baby pictures of you delightfully playing on the bearskin rug after your bath without a stitch of clothing on.' She glanced at Greg's amused snort. 'Don't you worry I'll give you your own copy. Now come over here and let me kiss you for being so delightful for Rosie and doing something so special for her. And for Sherlock.'

'Much appreciated you haven't - oh, I'm certain Gregory doesn't need that,' he added, pretending - and failing - to be unaffected, as he walked to his mother. 'It was a pleasure. I do like this little girl. She reminds me of Sherlock when he was her age,' he added thoughtfully.

Nodding she smiled kissing his cheek. 'The same keen intelligence, the curiosity, the quick grasp of new things. Sherlock's been a very good influence on her. John's quite intelligent so it's no wonder. And yes I'm certain he does need it.'  
Greg smiled bringing Mycroft a steaming mug of spiced cider. 'She's right. I really _do_ need that picture.'

He threw a half-hearted angry look to Gregory. 'I'm opposed to it. Not to that delicious spiced cider,' he said quickly taking the mug in his hand. 'Certainly, yes. All of this, quite obviously. But there is something… more. I cannot quite put my finger on it. You know how much I dislike not knowing everything,' he added.

Greg chuckled stroking his cheek softly. 'Well whatever it is I know you'll figure it out soon. It was incredibly sweet of you to do that for Rosie. It made Christmas very special for her. She's turning into a little copy of Sherlock and John. A good mix of both of them. She's been around Sherlock a hell of a lot more than she was ever around Mary. And from what John said, she never was much for taking care of Rosie. Environment can be a powerful thing.'

'Of course. I will make enquiries as soon as tomorrow,' he replied. 'I'm glad she liked it. Hopefully she will remember some of this Christmas without the aid of the film you've made, Gregory. She will need it, however. But I am certain that Sherlock will soon teach her how to create her own mind palace and she will be able to put these still fresh memories in it.'

Greg chuckled putting his arm around Mycroft's shoulders. 'Mm I'd be surprised if she doesn't already have a mind cottage going. Like the dollhouse she has at home. I'm sure she'll have a few memories of it. So proud of you,' he kissed his cheek gently.

'I agree, she might have the start of something to store her memories', he added. 'She is growing into an opinionated, confident and charming young girl. The fact that she is already clever is but one of her qualities. I do hope that the environment she is growing in will prove most beneficial to her, but so far it does not indicate that it won't'.

Mycroft raised his hand in a placating gesture. 'I didn't mean to imply that she would lack love in any respect. It is becoming clearer to me that Sherlock loves her as much as John does. I'm simply... worried. You know how Sherlock is when it comes to... strong emotions. Overpowering,' he said, his tone clearly indicating that he was worried as much for Rosie as for John and Sherlock himself, even though he would not admit to it to Sherlock.

He nodded. 'I know, I know, but he's better about it now. Not as intense. He knows John and Rosie aren't going anywhere so that means he doesn't have to hold on so tightly. And I think a little girl who will someday find out the ugly truth about her mother could use a little overpowering love. John's good at keeping Sherlock steady. Try not to worry.'

'Listen to your man, here, Mycroft. He's right. You should try not to worry. And if it ever came to it, I'm sure little Rosamund could count on a lot of people around her. There really is no reason to worry,' Siger declared, patting his son on the back.

Mycroft nodded, took Gregory's hand in his and squeezed it in a silent show of gratitude.

Greg stroked the back of his hand gently with his thumb. 'She'll be ok. And you can't tell me you won't have all cameras on her every time she's out and will investigate her friends, their parents, her teachers, everyone. Some might consider that a bit intense too. Just means you love her.'

'You know me so well,' Mycroft nodded. 'And I do, of course I do.' Mycroft looked at Gregory's face, trying to find any indication that he was opposed to his looking for the reason that Rosie reminded him so much of Sherlock – beside the obvious fact that she lived with him. 'You really don't mind, do you? That I use every resource I have to find what in Rosie reminds me so much of Sherlock?'  
Siger and his wife shared a look and made their way to the kitchen.

Greg squeezed his hand. 'I know, love. You'll get it figured out. In the end, it's not that important. John and Sherlock love her. I love her. You love her. Your parents love her. Mrs Hudson loves her. Hell even most of the yard loves her. That's gonna matter a hell of a lot more than the other stuff.'

'Don't forget Molly. You are right, Gregory. I will find out, but that's not the most important in her life. She is surrounded by people who love her. That should suffice,' he declared, stifling a yawn.

Greg smiled. 'All right, Father Christmas, let's get you off to bed. Acting takes a lot out of you. I'm sure Rosie will be up bright and early. She's got a special surprise coming that will keep things interesting.'

'Gregory... do you know something that I don't?' Mycroft asked, slightly incredulous. It was _his_ business to know everything, and the man he had chosen as his partner had come up with a piece of information that he had not seen. He could not feel prouder.

Greg smiled. 'Well I had my suspicions but then I stumbled on the "evidence" and I know Rosie'll be over the moon. I think it's a bit of a gift for Sherlock too.'

'Ah. Someone told you. It can only be John, to make a present to Rosie _and_ Sherlock,' he thought for a few seconds. 'Tell me. I'm too tired to think. Acting is not the only thing that wore me out. Please,’ he added.

Greg smiled. 'I know love. Come on, off to bed and I'll tell you when you're all settled in.' Helping get Mycroft out of his suit and into warm, comfortable pyjamas he crawled into bed by him and smiled stroking his hair. 'Amazed you haven't figured it out. It was your mum's idea. A present for Sherlock under the guise of it being for Rosie. There's an adorable little puppy tucked away downstairs just waiting to make an appearance in the morning. Don't know what kind it is, but it's a cute little thing from the pictures.'

'And you've seen pictures? This is absolutely unfair,' he retorted to the pillow. 'Sherlock will be absolutely thrilled. 's always dreamt of having a dog,' he commented. 'Show me?'

Greg smiled more than happy to share the pictures that had been sent over to his phone. 'Cute little bugger. I have no idea what breed it is. Some sort of spaniel I'd guess.' The puppy was eagerly looking at the camera head cocked and clearly intelligent.

'Sherlock will absolutely love this dog - this breed's always been his fav'rite,' Mycroft approved. 'Irish setter. Mixed, but I'm afraid I don't know what other breed with. Something calmer. 'S going to be around Rosie, after all. Setters can be very enthusiastic. Thank you for showing me, Greg. 'S ... very nice,' he said as he cuddled into Gregory's body. 'Warm.'

'Yeah nice an' warm now, aren't you love,' he chuckled gently rubbing Mycroft's back in soothing circles. 'Glad you think he'll like the pup. It's a cute little thing. Seems real smart too. I don't doubt Sherlock will be training it to go on cases and track criminals.'

'Mm, 'course he will. Awf'ly clever, these. Mm, tired, warm milk,' he mumbled, pressing himself closer into Gregory's embrace. 'Mm 'night, Greg.'

Greg chuckled. 'Mm figured something warm to drink would put you right out. G'night you giant brain.' No one would have ever guessed that once out of his stiff suits and into comfortable clothing Mycroft was quite the cuddler.

 

***

 

'It has been a tiring day for everyone, they deserve a good night's sleep. Especially Sherlock. He made tremendous efforts to put up a happy front when he was struggling,' said Mrs Holmes as she slipped under the covers of her own bed.   
  
'He would not have been so strong before John came into his life. He is the perfect companion for Sherlock. I'm incredibly happy that they've figured themselves out. And with Rosie, it makes everything much simpler,' commented Siger. 'Rest well, my dear. You did have an exhausting day, and Christmas Day will be much the same.'  
  
'We will both need energy tomorrow,' chuckled Mrs Holmes. 'The house will be under a fiery terror when a four legged furry puppy makes his entrance,' she chuckled once more, a little more forcefully. 'Good night, beloved magpie,' she said as she turned the lights to their bedroom off.

Siger kissed her cheek lovingly wrapping her in his arms. 'My dear poppy...' An affectionate nickname he'd given her in the early days of their relationship. 'What a night it's been. You were a wonderful hostess, as always. You kept the boys in line and made John and Greg feel welcome and part of the family. Which they are. I always did like John. Greg's good for Mycroft. He won't let him push him around or get lost in his work. Rosie's becoming such a dear child. Very smart for her age. I have no doubt the puppy will be a big hit for her and Sherlock both.'

'Keeping the boys in line... the work of a lifetime.  And each of them now has a special person to do that now. I think that Rosie also has a positive influence on Sherlock too. It is a certainty that both Sherlock and Rosie will adore the puppy. I wonder what name they'll give it. Probably a pirate name,' she mused. ‘But now, beloved magpie, is time we both catch a solid rest. Good night, ' she whispered.

Kissing her forehead he smiled stroking her cheek. 'Goodnight my sweet poppy.'

 

***

 

John smiled sliding his arm around Sherlock as they watched Rosie sleep. 'You did so much to make this Christmas special for her. I don't know how to thank you.'

‘Did I?’ he asked nervously. ‘I’m glad I did. Simply the reassurance you’ve given me all throughout the evening would be ample,’ he said. ‘Maybe…’ he started, his voice suddenly becoming hesitant.

‘Let’s go to bed,’ he said, tugging at John’s sleeve. ‘Speaking will be... easier in your arms and under the comfort of a warm blanket,’ he finished.

John smiled softly crawling into the warm bed with Sherlock wrapping him in his arms. 'There now, is that better? You know you can always tell me anything and everything, love. No matter what it is. Just talk to me. I don't care if you ramble. I just like having you talk to me about things.'

‘Yes, John. Always. I suppose you’ve got questions as to my… flippant behaviour this afternoon,’ he sighed, curling around himself, seeking more contact against John.

John hugged him closer rubbing his back soothingly. 'You don't owe me an explanation. I know what Mycroft said was completely uncalled for. If I'd been in your place I probably would have punched him in the nose. Almost did anyway. You recovered so well and were amazing with Rosie. She was so excited to show you everything and have you be part of her first Christmas.'

‘I wouldn’t have been able to recover had you not been there, you know. I’m glad I did. It was particularly difficult, not only because of Mycroft’s behaviour, but also… well.’

A heavy silence came upon the room. Sherlock tried to speak several times, but no sounds came out of his mouth. He swallowed and fidgeted. ‘John, there are… Things you don’t know things about my past. Things of importance. Things that… you _need_ to know, especially now in light of our acknowledged relationship.’

John stroked his cheek softly. 'Sherlock, love, whatever happened in the past is in the past. Just like you've been able to let go and forgive me for the terrible mistake I made being with Mary. If you can do that for me, the very least I can do is give you the same. You don't have to tell me anything you're not comfortable with sharing and I promise not to pry.'

‘I know,’ he replied holding John’s arm more tightly. ‘I feel that I need to tell you... It is a... delicate subject, as you can well imagine. Something that _shouldn’t_ alarm me, but it _does.'_

‘Whatever it is, we’ll work it through _together_ , love. Like we’ve always done most everything else since we met. Worked through it all together. I’ll do everything I can to help you. Just start slow and if it’s too much, we’ll stop for now and you can tell me more when you’re ready.’

‘How did I end up as lucky as to have such an understanding and patient partner?’ Sherlock wondered. ‘The simple fact of being in your arms that you… care for me so deeply and don’t… expect… physical... relations. And you’ve quite forcibly reminded me that taking drugs was not good.’

‘Definitely on the not good. You’re a good influence on Rosie and I know you’d never want to disappoint her or put her at risk. I know you know that drugs would do that so you’d never touch them. And I don’t _expect_ anything physical. If this is all you’re ever comfortable with then I can live with that. It’s more than I thought I’d ever have with you. Whatever happens, or doesn’t happen, you’re stuck with me.’

‘I know. I would have worded it differently, however.’ Sherlock took a deep breath. ‘In my… past… people I… interacted with… did not have the same… tolerance you have. As I was… under the influence more often than not, I was less… more… pliant… to such attentions,’ he shivered. ‘John, the countryside is much more… dangerous than the city. And love, or what I thought was love at the time proved to me particularly destructive.’

John rubbed his back soothingly. ‘The past is in the past now, love. It can’t hurt you anymore unless you let it. You’re older, wiser, and a better person. You’ve proven that over and over. Don’t let your past mistakes define your future. Or our present. I’m not worried about you with Rosie. You love her to pieces and would do anything for her. How could I think that’s anything _but_ a  good thing?

‘When it comes to… relations, do you… understand what my… reserves are?’ he asked softly, a hint of fear in his voice.

‘Of course’, John nodded. ‘You’re worried that you will consume me and leave nothing behind. I’m not afraid. Maybe it’s something I want. Something I’ve always wanted. I’ll never push you for anything.’

‘I’m not afraid to consume you and leave nothing behind, as such. I… John. I want you to know that I… want it too. It’s just… You know. I’ve had… experiences, you could say. But you could say I was not entirely… into it. I was… well. Flying, and not giving much thought, if any, as to what was happening. I’m… afraid of… well. Overreacting. Or getting in a fugue.’

Chuckling softly he kissed the tip of Sherlock’s nose. ‘Sweetheart, we’ll take things slow so you can adjust and adapt and analyse everything. We’ll figure out what you like, what you don’t like. What works for you, what doesn’t. And in all of that, you’ll figure out what I like and what works for me. I can promise that pretty much everything and anything you want to try, I’ll be willing to go along with. I’m going to try very hard to keep you from being overwhelmed so there won’t be any reason to get in a fugue. We’ll go slowly so you won’t overreact,’ he held him close.

Sherlock was speechless. ‘Thank you. For everything. For your consideration. Your patience. Being back,’ he returned the embrace, and took a large breath in. He turned around, facing John whose open face he contemplated and stroke his cheeks, exploring them, his nose, his lips with his fingers. He closed the gap between their faces and put his lips on John’s. The kiss was soft and tentative, as if he were unsure.

John smiled softly nuzzling into Sherlock’s touch. ‘Such bloody big hands. But one of the things I love about you. Beautiful hands. Have to admit I’m a bit jealous of your violin when you’re holding it and using your fingers to coax such amazing music from it. Nuzzling Sherlock’s nose gently he returned the kiss with a gentle press of lips.

'If you find the music I play so amazing, I could play more.' He could discern a look on John's face that told him he'd missed the point. 'Or I could use my hands on something other than my violin if you're so jealous and coax something as amazing,' he corrected.

'My brilliant detective,' John kissed his nose again. 'Only if you want to, love. When and if you want. I'm ok with whatever you're comfortable with. And I have no doubts that when or if you're comfortable enough you'll do amazing things with those hands,' taking Sherlock's long fingered elegant hands he kissed them softly.

'I wouldn't know. Even if apparently the massage I gave you earlier was satisfactory. I wonder if you wouldn't mind... The evening has been particularly stressful, despite your reassuring presence. I'm…  All knots,' he admitted, crunching his nose, as if it were shameful to have a tense back.

John chuckled softly. 'Mm all right. One good turn deserves another. Just make yourself comfortable and I'll do everything I can to get your back to relax. You've had a stressful day and you've done so much for Rosie and for me.' Unwinding himself from Sherlock he kissed his cheek. 'I won't be as good as you, but I'll do my best.' Getting up he got the small bottle of massage oil and warmed it between his hands.

Before turning onto his stomach and settling comfortably against the mattress and placing his face between pillows so as to keep his neck straight, he asked John to turn the lights off. 'Don't worry, there's still the torch of my phone to guide you here. Or I could light a small candle. More romantic,' he said.

Chuckling John shook his head. 'Well luckily there are candles around given that your mum seems to be a bit obsessed with scented candles. I'll light a few. You just get comfortable and try to start relaxing.' Lighting a couple of candles the room was soon glowing softly with just enough light for John to be able to see what he was doing.  
  
Warming the oil a bit more John carefully straddled Sherlock's lower back. Pouring a bit of the oil in his hands he carefully began working on the tense muscles of Sherlock's back.

'In this case it is not Mother's obsession. The scents are those I favour, as I'm certain you've noticed. I always needed incentives to relax, here in my room with... Company. But your company... Doesn't... Warrant... The same... Type of... Relaxing,' he said, starting to relax. He was evidently on the verge of entering his Mind Palace - the stress of the evening and the dread of John's reaction as to the state of his back was enough. He was, however, trying to stay present, and tensed his muscles more. If he felt his muscles more constricted, that would likely prevent him from accessing his Mind Palace too easily.

John tapped his back firmly. 'Hey now. None of that. You're tensing up on purpose. Don't exactly know why but I can tell you are. Try and relax, ok. If you end up in your Mind Palace and fall asleep that's more than fine. You've had a long day. Bit of a difficult day. You deserve to relax and let things go,' he slid his hands slowly over Sherlock's back with soothing strokes.

'Want to feel… Your loving touch... Dear... Need to be sure it is not... A dream...' Sherlock defended himself weakly. 'Could be dreaming. To stop the - interference of' he cut himself short, lest he said too much. John or imaginary John did not need to know that sort of information.

'I promise this isn't a dream,' he leaned down to kiss Sherlock softly. ‘I promise. Because if you're anything like me, no dream has ever been this real and perfect. It's as real as real can be. I promise. Just relax. You can talk to me if it helps. Just ramble. You could recite the periodic table and I wouldn't care.’

'I'll close my eyes. I trust you, my dear. Keep me safe. Keep me grounded. I need you to be there for me.' he exhaled softly as John put his hands on his back and started to feel his mostly scarred skin. 'John, I - there's something I should say. I don't want you to leave. I want you to stay. I need... your love. During these years... Away... Only the thought of you gave me strength enough to continue. I need your touch, to be assured of your presence. Of your love. John, for too long I... I longed for your embrace,' he declared. He may have been rambling, but he was certain that his own sentiments were accurately delivered.

'Shhh shhh shh...' John soothed. 'It's all right. I know. I know. I'm not leaving you. Rosie and I need you as much as you need us. That's what makes us a family, Sherlock. And it's part of why you and I have always worked so well together. We're just what the other needs. Always have been, always will be,' he continued with slow even strokes.

'"Always?" 'at's a long time. Even when you... D'sscov'er... Thingss?' Sherlock asked, worry piercing in his voice.

'Always,' John promised fingers gently sliding through Sherlock's curls. 'Always and forever. I know a lot of things. Not everything but I wanted answers and I got them. And your lisp is one of the sweetest things I've ever heard,' he smiled softly.

'Thhank you, for everythhing, John, my dear.' He inhaled deeply. 'if you wwant to... Have more ansswers, I am ready to... Provide them. And I don't have a lissp. Now kissss me,' he demanded trying to cover his insecurity with petulance.

Giggling softly he kissed Sherlock lovingly. 'Anything to get a kiss. And you were lisping. Just the slightest bit. It's incredibly endearing.' Sighing he stroked Sherlock's hair slowly. 'That night. The night you came back. After I stormed off. I walked. For hours. Finally I ended up at Mycroft's office. Anthea let me in. She's a bit of all right. Your brother and I had a _long_ talk. A _very_ long talk. He told me what happened. Some. Enough for me to get the general idea. I think he wanted to leave enough out that you could tell me someday when you were ready.'

Sherlock leaned into John's hand. He was incredibly sensitive there. It was good that the situation was not…  Heated otherwise a situation would be sure to occur. Given the subject at hand here, it would be counterproductive, and Sherlock was still not sure what he was capable of doing in that area. The point was moot anyway since the circumstances were not... Right for anything to happen. At least it seemed so to him.  
He sighed. 'I imagined ssomething of the ssort happened. What do you know already? And more specifically, what would you like to know?' he asked, schooling himself into the emotionless person he had been so long ago before John smashed all the walls he'd erected around himself.

John hummed softly fingers gently running through Sherlock's dark curls. 'I don't want to know anything that you're not comfortable telling me. I'm not going to do to you what several therapists tried to do to me and _make me_ talk about things I didn't want to talk about. I know enough. I know the basics of your injuries and the surgeries you went through. The scars are barely visible. Even in good light I'd guess. But I can feel the scar tissue underneath. Whenever you need me to work on your back, say the word.'

Sherlock huffed, his irritation starting to show. 'I know you won't demand anything. That's utterly contrary to your character. But if _you_ want more information, I can and am _willing_ to give them to you.  It would seem... Cruel? Not to let you know everything that happened on my part when I was - away,' he stayed silent for a few moments. ‘"even in good light". John Watson. Are you implying that you want to _see_?' he asked his voice low and terribly suggestive.

'Darling I want to see _all_ of you,' John husked in his ear. 'That sneak peek I got of you in the sheet at the palace when your brother stepped on it was wank material. Still is,' grinning he winked at Sherlock trying to ease the stress of the situation. 'I know all I _need_ to know. And if I found out more it's very likely to set me off and I'd end up tracking down anyone who hurt you and making sure they met a very slow painful end,' John promised eyes a stormy blue.

'You would be hard-pressed to track any of them down - and give them a long, painful death. It's, erm, been dealt with,' Sherlock reacted, somewhat ashamed of his revelation. He raised an eyebrow. 'Wank material, you say? John. Get off. Light more candles. I think you'll find more 'wank material' when you're done,’ he declared, his voice having gone unbelievably lower than John would have ever thought him capable.

'You bloody jaguar with a chest caught in a cello...' John shook his head with a smile. 'I'm sure your brother saw that they were dealt with. Doesn't mean that if I find out any of them are still alive that I won't find them and make bloody well sure they never hurt anyone again. I can promise you that. I don't take it well when people hurt my family,' sliding his hands up Sherlock's ribs slowly he kissed him gently. 'I love you so bloody much.'

‘I know. I can personally guarantee you that none of them still crawls the earth. They’ve long stopped.’ Sherlock returned John’s kiss and sentiment with more fervour. ‘John, I... I think I might be ready to… try something. My mind has been reeling all day. And your… attentions… are rather… effective,’ he said in a particularly deep voice, looking down at himself.

John's lips twitched in a smirk as he kissed Sherlock slowly running a hand through his curls slowly. 'If you're sure, sweetheart. And even if you decide we need to stop in the middle of things, we will. We'll take things nice and slow and I'll tell you everything I plan on doing before I do it so you have time to process it.'

‘I - of course I’m sure, John. You know… what we did, back to back, the other night… Maybe we could…’ Sherlock thought he’d die from embarrassment _but it is stupid one doesn’t die from that. And it’s_ John _. Not… others… And I’m_ fully _conscious, very well aware of… things._ He braced himself and dove into the subject on his mind. ‘Face to face? I’m sure you’re… well equipped for such an occasion,’ he added, bravely lowering his hands to John’s lower stomach, brushing through the trail of hair as he continued further down. ‘Is this… acceptable?’ he asked, a hint of fear as he heard John’s sharp intake of breath.

John bit back a deep moan nodding. 'More than, love, more than acceptable. Bloody marvellous hands you have... Beautiful hands,' he rambled slightly. It had been a long time since anyone had touched him like this. And he was definitely _not_ going to think about Mary and make any sort of comparison. No. All that had gone in a rather large trunk in his head that was chained shut and was weighed down with concrete blocks sitting at the point of the ocean never to see the light of day again. Ever. It was one of the helpful things he'd got from Ella. Deal with what could be dealt with and sink the rest of it. 'Love you so much...' he murmured cupping his cheek and kissing him gently.

‘I - have noticed,’ Sherlock replied, putting his lips in the crook of his neck, kissing softly, just a gentle brush of lips before his attentions became more intense. One hand was still busy exploring John’s lower abdomen and further while the other caressed his torso in the most delicate way, as if in fervent awe. When his fingers grazed on the scar on John’s shoulder, he paused for a moment. ‘I know I… touched you there earlier today. The situation now is not quite the same. Tell me if I do anything… you’d rather I didn’t,’ he said lowering his mouth to deposit the softest of kisses around the area where he had been hit. ‘Or tell me what you’d like me to do,’ he murmured in almost a growl.

Smiling softly he stroked Sherlock's cheek and curls. 'Thank you. And I don't mind what you're doing. Feels nice. What I can feel anyway. We both have scars. Just shows how much we've been through to get to where we are,' he murmured trying to hold still and let Sherlock explore all he wanted.

‘Good. You don’t have to be so still, dear. I know what you’re trying to do - but how can I expect to understand what you like or don’t if you don’t let it show?’ he asked, toying with John’s treasure trail before taking hold of the treasure in his hand.

Gasping he bucked into his hand. 'Just trying to let you adjust, love. Seems I'm even more sensitive and responsive to your touch than I thought possible. And I'm going to like anything you do. Trust me.'

Sherlock smiled against the skin of John’s torso. ‘Of course I trust you, John, my dear. I am glad to know that,’ he responded, kissing him more, nipping at his skin, grazing his hardened nipples with a hint of teeth. ‘I think I’m adjusting just fine, wouldn’t you say?’ he asked, his tone teasing. ‘Both soldier and Captain are at attention,’ he commented as the movements of his hand became bolder.

Huffing a giggle he nodded. 'Believe me you have my full and complete attention.' He loved how Sherlock made him laugh. No one else had ever made him laugh so much.  'You're adjusting brilliantly. Wouldn't expect anything less from you. Brilliant, beautiful man you are...'

‘I - thank you?’ he replied somewhat hesitantly. ‘I’ll continue ravishing your attentions, then,’ he declared, sucking hard into John’s pectoral, almost biting. His hand went even further down. He looked at John with a question in his eyes. ‘Do you… enjoy... attention _there_? These are fragile jewels. I would not be anything else but careful and delicate but if you’d rather I don’t - I won’t’ _,_ he declared solemnly.

Smiling he ran his thumb over Sherlock's cheek. 'Mm I enjoy the attention very much. You've got amazing hands love. Nice to have a hand down there that's not my own. Between your hand and your mouth I'm amazed I've lasted this long.'

‘You should not be, dear. Contrary to the general assumption in this particular...area, I _know_ what I’m doing,’ he replied, sounding ashamed, but pleased that his... experiences had been useful, in the end.

John grinned. 'Take your time and satisfy your curiosity. I'm certainly not going to complain about anything you do. Try anything you like. I can promise you I'm going to like it.'

Sherlock kissed the grin on John’s face. ‘I will certainly consider that,’ he said, turning his head slightly to catch John’s thumb in his mouth and sucking on it, eliciting a moan from John. He stopped. ‘Did I do something wrong?’

Panting softly John shook his head. 'No, no, not at all, love. Not at all. In fact you did something very, very right. Felt really good. Good to know that your mouth is talented at a lot more than talking and kissing...' he smirked.

Oh. _Oh._ Sherlock pinned John with an intent gaze, the look he had when he had an intriguing idea. The look of a hungry, curious explorer. He smiled and kissed his way all the way down John’s neck, stomach and further down. He stopped, pressing his nose against John’s pubic hair where the smell of him was strongest, his hand still holding, fondling the evidence of his interest of their activities. He repeatedly placed tentative kisses on the sides of it, gauging John’s reactions, if he’d ask him to stop or if he were not opposed to him continuing. As there were no other reactions than slight panting, soft moaning and intakes of breaths, Sherlock decided to carry on. He placed his mouth on the swollen tip of John’s prick and licked the wetness that coated it. ‘Is this okay?’ he asked, curious. ‘Tell me what it does to you, please. I want to understand. I need to understand.’

'More than just ok...' John panted, his hand shaking slightly as he ran it through Sherlock's curls. 'That, that's incredible. One of my favourite things and you already seem to know exactly what I like best without me even telling you. My genius,' he praised Sherlock. "Makes me want more. More of your hands, your mouth, just more you. It's just perfect. Absolutely perfect.'

Sherlock preened under John’s compliments. ‘Shall I continue, then? There’s much… more of you to taste,’ he declared.

'Oh please be my guest,' he grinned eyes dark. 'Taste all you want. I'm sure as hell not going to complain or tell you to stop. Might ask you to stop now and then just for a minute so I can catch my breath but that in no way means I don't want you to go right back to what you were doing.'

Sherlock nodded. ‘Then I shall explore the enticing surrounding area while you get your breath back,’ he agreed.

John smiled with a nod. 'As usual you have the best ideas. I'm enjoying you exploring as much as you are. Maybe more. I'm sure there's plenty of data for you to gather.'

‘Obviously. I must admit that this is more, much more… agreeable than I could ever have expected. Even if agreeable is not the word. You do taste so delicious, my dear,’ Sherlock said bringing himself up on his elbows to look at John. ‘Got your breath back?’ he asked, his eagerness to continue evident.

Nodding he cupped Sherlock's cheek. 'I do. Glad you find what you're doing to me and for me so... agreeable. And I want to do things to you and for you that are agreeable for you. Whenever you're ready. I am enjoying this even more than I dreamed I could...'

‘I do. Rest your head, dear, I think I’ve got a few more things to perform on you,’ he said, his voice sultry. As soon as John had rested his head on the pillow, Sherlock resumed his previous activity. Licking and stroking. He hesitated less than a second and took John in his mouth, savouring the taste, assessing what he could do with his tongue while his mouth was full. He tentatively rolled his tongue around John, alternatively stroking him and massaging his testicles. John was squirming. Sherlock feared that he was doing wrong, or hurting him or both, but John incited him to continue, grasping at his hair. And so he did.

'Sherlock I swear to all that's holy to anyone if you stop now I will personally murder you myself...' he panted trying not to grip Sherlock's hair too tightly and cause pain. Well, not too much pain in a bad way. 'Knew that mouth of yours would be as good at this as it is insulting people,' he panted a weak chuckle. Humour. Humour to distract him just enough to let Sherlock continue and not have this all end _much_ sooner than he'd like.

Sherlock continued fervently, encouraged by John's words and reaction. He let go of John's testicles, clearly having received the message that under no pretext whatsoever he was to stop what his mouth doing and caressed his thighs. He took John's hand and squeezed it hard. _I am ready_ was all the message he wanted to convey.

John squeezed his hand stroking the back of it with his thumb. Sherlock's hands on his thighs stroking slowly was a soothing contrast to the eager attentions of his mouth. Panting he gripped the sheets tightly careful not to pull Sherlock's hair. 'Sherlock...' he tried to warn him, to let him know that pulling off was perfectly ok and he didn't expect him to do anything and hoping he was enjoying this.

Sherlock pulled off. He wasn't quite ready yet for what his ministrations would result in. He didn't stop stroking him, however, and pulled himself up. 'I want to see you, John.'

'Come here,' he panted breathlessly wanting to hold Sherlock close. 'That mouth of yours...' Groaning he arched into Sherlock's hand trying to hold off just a fraction longer. 'Promise I'll make you feel so amazing...'

'Let go. I know. Let go. I want to see you,' he repeated, wonder in his eyes as John's muscles tensed, and relief came flooding between them.

John held him close burying his face in the crook of Sherlock's neck as he came hips bucking and muscles contracting sharply. Panting he held on to him mumbling sweet things with little in the way of them being coherent but mostly praising Sherlock for being amazing and brilliant and wonderful.

'Shh, John, I've got you. Please tell me you liked it. I've got you anyway,' he whispered, his own erection painfully hard, but he couldn't care less at the moment.

'Think "like" is a bit of an understatement...' he mumbled nuzzling Sherlock's cheek. 'Bloody hell... Should've known you'd be a genius at this too. Genius at everything. God I love you... So much. Best orgasm I've ever had.'

'Not the last,' Sherlock promised in a whisper. 'I can promise you that,' he said, his hands drawing circles on John's body.

Nuzzling his nose into Sherlock's curls he smiled. 'Thank God for that... Can I? I want to touch you too, help you again. If it's ok. That was incredible. You're a marvel, knew exactly what I wanted and needed even before I realized it.'

'Don't you need to rest, my dear? I found it particularly… enjoyable, and I... no, I most certainly wouldn't be averse to... you helping me,' he said before kissing him softly. 'Not in the least,' he assured him.

'Soon as I can move and think again...' John promised. 'Glad you enjoyed it. Some people don't, y'know. Just not their thing. Not saying it has to be an all the time kind of thing but whenever the mood happens to strike I won't say no. Can promise you that...'

‘Yes, I know,’ Sherlock replied a little lost in thought. ‘But as it happens, I like it _a lot_ with you. I - when, _if_ you… feel like it, I… would like you to… help me the same way I helped you. If you feel you’ll enjoy it, that is,’ he said trying to ask delicately.

John chuckled softly stroking Sherlock's cheek lovingly. 'I can promise you I'm going to enjoy it and that I do like that sort of thing. With the right person. I did my fair share of 'experimenting' in uni. Put a bunch of hormone driven boys together playing rugby and things happen. Same sort of thing went in the army. Not all of it meant anything. Friends helping friends. Celebrating a victory or coping with an absolute shite day when there's been too much blood and death,' he shrugged slightly. 'It was what it was. After uni, after getting discharged, it was just easier to go back to "normal". Then I ran into Mike and met you and ''normal'' went right out the window.' Kissing him slowly John let their foreheads rest together. 'And I will forever be glad that it did.'

‘I can safely say the same in that regard, John. Although my…"experimenting" was not of the same good nature as yours, I regret to say. But I do share the sentiment. With the right person. You, always you, dear. My John,’ he whispered.

'And now, for me, always you,' John promised with quiet sincerity. 'My dear bumble...' he murmured softly gazing at him with complete love and adoration. 'Every time I've been broken into a million pieces you've been there to put me back together and make me into something better than I was before.'

‘And I assure you I will always be there to put you back together when you need it... You do know that you have the same effect on me, my dearest?’ he replied with the same sincerity. ‘I was lost without you,’ he confessed.

'Both of us lost, searching, missing the piece that the other one was,' he nodded cupping his cheek and kissing him slowly. 'I was afraid that you wouldn't want to put me back together again after everything I said, everything I did. But I knew that I wanted you to be in Rosie's life in some way, any way possible. I knew there would be something missing from her life if you weren't in it. And now you're in it and she calls you Papa and I've never been so whole and happy.'

Sherlock nuzzled against John’s neck, biting soft kisses, and pressing himself against John’s thigh. ‘How could I ever dismiss you? Since you’ve been in my life, things have become brighter. We have each other, now, no matter how _hard_ things can become. There’s always a way to soften the _situations_ ’, he said, panting. His body was telling him to do something about the situation he was in, and Sherlock pressed himself harder against John, a silent plea for help.

John kissed him slowly running his hand up and down Sherlock's spine. 'What can I do to help, love? Like last time or something different?'

Sherlock arched into the touch, his body a bundle of nerves. 'I – what I did made me curious. If you're... amenable to do that, I'd like us to try it,' he asked somewhat timidly.

Gently tipping his chin up John kissed him slowly. 'I'm very amenable, love. Very. I'll take things slow, give you plenty of chances to let me know things are ok, or not,' nuzzling his hair he wrapped his hand around Sherlock's hard cock stroking lightly.

Sherlock moaned deeply as soon as John's hand came into contact with him. 'Oh, John… This… is more than… ok...' he said moaning louder.

'Shhhh!' he chuckled softly. 'Can't wake Rosie. Or the rest of the house.' Tightening his grip slightly he stroked a bit faster.

Sherlock bit his lips. He nodded. 'I'll make sure no sound escapes my lips,' he said taking a pillow and putting it on his face.

Laughing softly he pulled the pillow away kissing him. 'Now that's a bit extreme. I think I've got a better way to keep you quiet. Just kiss me,' stroking slowly he nibbled teasingly along Sherlock's neck.

Sherlock gasped under the teasing attention of John's mouth. He brought John's face to his and kissed him desperately. Breaking the kiss he declared that he had no idea how to keep silent when John's mouth would be otherwise occupied.

'Let's just hope everyone's a heavy sleeper. I know Rosie is. And I'm sure Greg will block out the noise. Your parents are a good distance away. Long as you don't go shouting too loud, I wouldn't worry too much,' smiling he stroked slowly.

'All the adults in this house have heard harder, hoarser shouts coming from here - and I don't intend to... I'll keep it under control,' he groaned as the intensity of John's attention diminished. 'I promise, you don't - please don't pun - tease me,' he said.

John raised a brow slightly with a smirk. 'Don't think that we're not going to have a long conversation about that comment later.' Trailing kisses over his chest and nipping lightly he continued stroking him. 'You're beautiful...' Pressing a kiss over the scar in the centre of his chest he smiled up at him. 'I love you.'

'What… comment...?' he asked weakly, panting. 'I - know, John… you are so talented… so caring… Of course you are. You're the most caring man on earth. The one who has my - heart,' he whispered. 'John, please… continue… I feel so… ah!' he gasped.

'The great Sherlock Holmes having difficulty thinking and stringing together a coherent sentence. Mark this day on the calendars,' he chuckled softly trailing soft kisses along the sharp line of a hip bone with a gentle nip. 'Beautiful...'

'That's part – of what – makes me – incoherent. Your attention… your words...' he relaxed, sighing softly. 'It feels so... good'

'Well I'd bloody hope it feels good!' he chuckled softly licking a slow stripe along the underside of his cock. 'Mm... even better than I imagined...'

'Oh God...' Sherlock gasped. 'So _fucking_ more than just ''good''...' he said as John's tongue licked his cock, at the sensation the comment he had just made, not caring in the least for the profanity he'd just let out.

Raising a brow John smirked rather proud of himself for reducing Sherlock to a point where he was not just struggling to form a coherent thought and express it but stooping to profanity as well. It was good to know he hadn't lost his touch over the years. 'Still ok up there bumble?' grinning he licked again teasingly.

‘Mh, yes, course, dear - even better down there,’ he added grasping John’s shoulder and squeezing it to indicate just how ok everything was.

Rumbling his approval with lips wrapped around the head of Sherlock's prick as he licked teasingly he looked up at him running a hand up and over his chest.

Sherlock's eyes were half closed, but he did his best to watch the enticing vision of John's lips around him. The rumbling had him close his eyes. 'Definitely good. Oh, yes,' he whispered appreciatively, his body shivering under John's caress.

'I've got you,' he murmured softly letting his hand rest over Sherlock's pounding heart. 'Just breathe. Give yourself a minute.' Pressing a kiss to his thigh he smiled softly.

‘Breathing’s boring,’ Sherlock replied. ‘Why stop? I’m - you’re doing - more than I could ever expected it to be - so much better than I thought it would be,’ he rambled.

'Easy, love, easy...' John soothed. 'Not stopping for good. Just giving you a moment to process and catch your breath. Just like you did for me. Glad you're enjoying it. I'd be a bit upset with myself if you weren't.'

'Oh but I am. So, so much,' he breathed in slowly, attempting to reduce his heart rate. 'Processing… only thing to process is how delicious it is... I could - get used to it, if you don't mind me saying so,' he said somewhat hesitantly, still somehow afraid to toe over a line.

'Mind? Why would I mind? Any time, bumble, any time at all. Just find a way to ask me or flat out tell me and I will be more than happy to do this,' he promised meeting Sherlock's eyes so he could see the sincerity.

'I don't know. Might be offensive to ask. I wouldn't know. Relationships... Well. I will keep that in mind,' he answered, acknowledging and accepting John's sincerity. 'As I keep everything about you in mind...' he added in a heavy, lustful whisper.

'Not going to offend me, love. I promise. Just tell me what you want or something you want to try. It's all about communication. Don't worry about what anyone else says about relationships. This is us. We'll figure our own way. Promise,' he licked him slowly.

Sherlock shuddered under John's care. 'I trust you,' he said, completely closing his eyes and resting his head back completely on the pillow behind him, his hand resting on John's shoulder, an anchor for him, a way to reassure himself again that this was all very real.

'That's right. I've got you. You can let go. I've got you. I won't let you get lost,' he promised softly nuzzling his thigh gently with a little nip. 'I promise this is real.'

Sherlock sighed loudly, bringing his forearm in front of his eyes. ‘It certainly feels – ah – real’, he replied, his voice somewhat muffled by his arm.

'Very real,' John murmured licking and sucking slowly as he ran a hand along Sherlock’s hip.

Sherlock shuddered and moaned softly under John’s ministrations. ‘John?’ he asked, his voice a whisper. ‘More?’

'Yes, love,' he murmured softly. Sucking a bit harder he slid his hand under Sherlock's back stroking lightly. 'Tell me if it's too much.'

'Oh God! No, it is _not_ too much!' Sherlock replied, almost exclaimed. 'It is – perfect. Never thought – so good, John,' he moaned.

'I know, love, I know,' he chuckled softly licking slowly as his fingers stroked his lower back inching downward a bit at a time. 'Love making you feel good.'

‘Oh you are, John… So, so good,’ he said his muscles tensing up. ‘I’m – not sure – what your intention is, there – but it’s – good. Safe,’ he concluded.

'Always safe with me, Sherlock. I promise. If it's too much let me know. Just trying something to see if you like it. I'm not going to do anything more right now.' Nuzzling his hard prick he licked it slowly.

'John, I trust you, of course I, but can you – tell me what you want to try please?’ he panted under John's soft ministrations. 'Not knowing – actually not... Good,' he explained.

'Of course,' he nodded. 'Just going to touch you a bit. Won't go too far. Just love exploring how soft your skin is. That ok? Nothing more than I'm doing right now.'

'Oh, yes. Yes, then. I like the feel of your fingers. Please don't stop… what you're doing with your mouth - incredible,' he said in a heady whisper.

'Not everyone likes being touched. Want to get you used to being touched gently, with love. When you're ready we'll think about trying more things. For now, this is more than enough,' he gently spread his hand out along Sherlock's lower back almost cradling him. 'Are you ok if I do a little more with my mouth?'

Sherlock nodded enthusiastically. 'Please,' he almost begged.

'All right love, all right,' he chuckled softly wrapping his hand around him again and sucking eagerly with a low moan gently massaging Sherlock's lower back.

As soon as John set to suck him more eagerly, Sherlock bucked into him, inhaling sharply. 'Fuck!' he breathed. 'That's… John, that's...' He could no longer find words and was soon reduced to a moaning mess.

'I think the word you're looking for is good,' he smirked up at him. Sherlock was a pretty picture with his dark curls spread loosely across the pillow and a flush to his pale skin. 'Catch your breath again.'

Sherlock did as he was told. He had not noticed _him!_ that it would soon be an issue, so lost was he in the pleasure John was giving him. Finding his breathing again was difficult, but John was attentive to his every need. His lips had gone back to kissing the insides of his thighs while he was recovering.

'That's better. Not so worried about you hyperventilating. I know it's ''just transport'' but I'd much rather you were conscious,' smiling he nuzzled along the inside of Sherlock's thigh nipping gently as his hand stroked the curve of his lower back.

Sherlock was perspiring heavily but his breathing was back to almost normal. He shivered under John’s gentle, loving touch. ‘John…’ he moaned gently, ‘I think I’m burning. Not… in a bad… way,’ he precised.

Chuckling he nodded. 'Yeah, you're a bit flushed sweetheart. I'll get a nice flannel in a bit and it'll make you feel better. That's why I'm taking things slow, giving you breaks. So you can calm down and cool off.'

‘But I don’t want you to - leave, even for a minute,’ Sherlock replied. ‘You are keeping me calm. If not entirely… collected,’ he added in a whisper.

'No. No. I'm not leaving now sweetheart. In a bit. After I'm sure you're completely taken care of. Then while you rest a bit I'll get a warm flannel. Can't have you catching a cold,' he smiled softly.

‘That could – ah – be acceptable,’ Sherlock gasped, writhing under John’s tender caresses. John was right, he needed to be touched in a loving way. ‘Never before… love…’ he whispered as John kissed him anew, his attention returned to his engorged sex.

John smiled. 'Well that's all going to change now. Promise to touch you with all the love I've got to offer. Promise,' he murmured softly licking and sucking slowly.

‘John, I…’ he started, biting his lips as the muscles in his abdomen clenched. ‘So… good… so…’ he put his hand on John’s hair carefully tugging at it.

Moaning deeply he nudged his head against Sherlock's hand stroking and teasing as he sucked hand massaging his lower back to ease the tension.

Sherlock bit his lips more strongly, the tension building inside him not subsiding. A low groan trapped in his throat, he clenched the sheets. He was so very close to the edge, and John brought him closer and closer, with slow, tender movements.

Licking slowly he looked up at him. 'It's all right, love. I've got you. You can let go. It's ok. Just let go now,' he murmured softly.

He did, clenching the sheets even more tightly, panting heavily from the pent-up tension that had built up inside him as the warm evidence of his pleasure spurted from him. He exhaled blissfully as John kept him grounded, a hand on his trembling thigh, the other guiding him through his release.

Licking eagerly he stroked a hand along Sherlock's thigh. 'That's it, love, that's it. I've got you. I've got you. Perfect. You're absolutely perfect. You're ok. That's so good.'

Sherlock revelled under the soft touch of John on his thigh. ‘Thank you, love. For ever’thing you do for me,’ he whispered, his voice lower than a murmur.’ He wanted to stay like this for a long time, safe in John’s care.

'Promised you I'd get you through this safe and whole, didn't I.' Smiling he crawled up the bed slowly pulling Sherlock into his arms. 'And as much as possible I'm going to make sure it's always like this for you. That even if we're in a rush or just so bloody eager that we can hardly wait another second, I’m going to make sure that you know how much I love you.' He pressed a kiss to his forehead stroking his damp curls back gently.

Sherlock let out a sigh, expressing how content, serene and _safe_ he felt in John’s arms. ‘Firs’ ever to consider that. Consider _me_ ’, he said out of nowhere.

John blinked down at him smiling a bit. All this time and Sherlock's abrupt left turns in logic and seemingly random changes in subject matter. Much like when Sherlock had asked him for a pen when he hadn't been home for hours. 'Mm well whoever had been before me should have treated you a whole hell of a lot better. I'm _always_ going to consider what you need and what you want. Always. May not always be the best at it, but I promise to always try,' he stroked Sherlock's curls slowly. 'Do you want to talk about it?'

Sherlock had not completely realised he had _really_ given out a piece of his past. John had told him that communication would be the key. In fact, if he cared to remember - which he always did - John's instinct had _always_ been to care for him. 'You have always had that protecting, attentive side. None of them had, and I did not care,' he added in a barely audible whisper.

John cupped his cheek gently. 'You weren't yourself. Not completely in your right mind. Don't be too hard a judge on yourself for it. Chalk it up to being younger and stupid. Old enough to know better but still too young to care,' he smiled softly. 'I'm the last person to ever judge someone else's relationships given my track record.'

'Younger, stupid, and high - or completing a transaction to get high,' he admitted, self-loathing at his own actions still very much present. 'Three Continents Watson?' he enquired, curiosity winning over self-deprecation.

John smiled with a half shrug. 'And married an assassin for hire, so there's that too. And when you're fresh out of uni and get dumped in some 'exotic' foreign port. Well. Like you said, all the nice girls, and the not so nice ones, like a soldier. No judgement from me. Ever.'

Sherlock gave a tentative smile and closed his arms around John, tightening his hold on him. 'So patient, so understanding, so… perfect. It is I, John, who keeps wondering what I did to deserve someone such as you,' he said softly, his emotions bleeding out.

'Maybe neither of us did anything. Maybe we're just two imperfect people who found the missing part of themselves with each other.' Smiling he kissed him softly. 'Fate, destiny, serendipity, whatever you want to call it.'

Looking into his eyes, Sherlock’s face became even more serious, a slight frown growing between his own. ‘To me, you are. And always will be whatever you do.’ He embraced him, stroking his cheeks. A small smile appeared on his lips. ‘I think the chaos theory suits us perfectly, don’t you?’

'Mm chaos theory's good for something at least,' he chuckled softly nuzzling his nose into Sherlock's soft curls. 'Our life has been nothing if not chaotic. Good thing we both tend to thrive on chaos and a fair bit of utter madness. Can't believe we've finally just about got all this sorted out. The way we should have all those years ago. Guess it's all worked out for the best. If we'd been together all this time, we wouldn't have Rosie. As unsure as I was about being a father, now I can't imagine life without her.'

‘You are a wonderful father, John. Never doubt that, will you? I had told you before: you were already the best parent in the world even before she was born. I can’t help but wishing it could have been possible for us to be together and having Rosie,’ he admitted. ‘Although, in a way, we have always been,’ he said thoughtfully.

Smiling he kissed Sherlock gently. 'Rosie is more like you than she's ever been like Mary. She looks a bit like Mum's baby pictures. And she acts just like you.' Laughing softly he smiled. 'And I couldn't be happier about that. You're an amazing role model for her, Sherlock. We're so lucky to have you in our life. And you're right. She's always been ours. Mary was never too interested in Rosie. Unless she was trying to make me feel like an utter failure as a husband and father.'

‘Ah, that would be the nurture part of education, I should think,’ Sherlock stated. ‘She did not make for an excellent wife, did she?’ Sherlock snorted. ‘As for parenting... what sort of parent goes around the world, abandoning their child behind, hm? You were there for Rosie. And when you couldn’t, or she was too much, you asked for others to help you. You are a fantastic father, John. Don’t let anything she said ever bring you down.’ He paused for a moment, contemplating John in the feeble light that pierced through his bedroom window. ‘As for being a good husband, I wouldn’t know, but you certainly are a very good partner. One day is more than enough for me to determine that, my dear.’

'What did I ever do to deserve you?' Smiling he kissed Sherlock with slow tenderness. 'Thank you. I sometimes need to be reminded that most of the fault in what happened to Mary, why we didn't, and never would have worked out, is on _her_ and not on me. I tried. I tried so hard. I did everything I could and I thought was right and it was never enough. It was good of Mrs. Hudson to take Rosie at a moment's notice so you could help me track Mary half way around the world.'

‘That it was. She and Molly take their roles as godmothers very seriously. I on the other hand... well. I’m not sure I can still be considered her godfather,’ he replied. ‘I do hope that in time you will not need reminding that you _are_ a good parent, father, partner, _person_. But I do promise you that I will, no matter for how long or how often, remind you of it,’ he said in low, solemn whisper.

Smiling he pulled Sherlock closer. 'You're much more than her godfather, love. You know that. She calls you Papa and I've encouraged it from the first time she said it. There's no one else I'd want as another father figure in Rosie's life. Greg and Mycroft get the fun job of being her uncles and god fathers. Mrs. Hudson gets to spoil her rotten and be a grandmother. Molly gets to be a doting Auntie and do all the fun, cool things. I get to be her dad and you get to be her Papa. Works out pretty well if you ask me. And I'll need reminding. There are days when it's all a bit much to handle and I get a bit lost in my own head, blaming myself for things that I had no control over. I'm lucky enough to have you here to help me see the good things.'

‘It bears repeating: I will remind you and help you find your way back as often as you need it,’ he promised. ‘Rosie is the luckiest and most cherished girl in the world,’ he said his voice coming out softer. ‘I think that my transport is claiming me, dear. Hold me?’

Smiling softly John shifted slightly so Sherlock could lay his head on his chest. 'Try and sleep, bumble. We'll be up bright and early with Rosie. I know it. I don't know what Rosie and I'd do without you. You were there when I needed you most. When I couldn't be what she needed. And there you were.'

Sherlock settled his head against John’s chest, snuggling closer to him. ‘Continuously, John. Always will. ‘S long as you’ll have me,’ he said, his voice becoming fainter as his eyes fluttered closed, his black hair contrasting with the milk of his skin. Barely a minute passed before he started snoring faintly.

John smiled softly blinking back tears. He was getting maudlin in his old age. 'I love you. So bloody much...' John murmured softly as he gently rubbed Sherlock's back and pressing a kiss to his unruly mop of curls. 'Can't wait for you to get your presents.' Yawning he shifted slightly to make his shoulder a bit more comfortable and soon falling asleep with Sherlock in his arms.

 


	11. God rest you merry, gentlemen!

Sherlock was awoken by loud giggling beside him. And a soft ball of fur that insisted on licking his face, and generally speaking was tickling every part of his body that was not covered by the sheet of his bed. He still was impaired by the restraints sleep had put on his brain so efficiently the night before, and looked around to find John smiling at the beautiful tableau in front of him. Sherlock knew he would be clueless for a few more minutes as it always took him some time to re-engage his brain after shutting it off, but he knew that Rosie was beside him. She had been in her cot when they had got to bed, so John must have gone and fed her without Sherlock noticing and kept her in bed for a Christmas morning cuddle. The small ball of fur - a puppy, breed for now unrecognised, was trying to get attention from all sides, yapping, licking and rolling around, presenting his belly. He wouldn’t be older than 4 months old, but was already rather big.

John smiled watching Rosie very gently play with the puppy. After a gentle, cautious warning about petting too hard and not pulling ears or tail she'd sat very still and waited for the pup to crawl in her lap before hugging it and giggling as she was covered in puppy kisses. He hadn't been able to resist bringing them both to bed to wake up Sherlock. ‘Well look who's awake, Rosie.’ Smiling brightly she hugged him. ‘Papa!! I gots a puppy!!!!’

‘Wouldn’t say awake, yet,’ he grumbled softly. ‘A puppy, Rosie?’ he exclaimed. ‘Your Daddy let you have a puppy?’ he repeated, incredulous. ‘He’s magnifissent, darling. I’ll let you in on a secret. I am as pleased as you are to have a puppy,’ he whispered.

Rosie smiled with a giggle. ‘Nuuhhh uhhh Grammy an' Grampy got 'im for me.’ John sighed with a shrug. ‘And how could I say no?! The little ball of fluff was already here. It was love at first sight for these two. I couldn't say we wouldn't or couldn't keep him.’ Rosie cuddled into Sherlock kissing his cheek. ‘We share. Otay Papa.’

‘Hm, quite right,’ Sherlock approved. ‘Grand-mère et Grand-père. J’aurais dû m’en douter’ Sherlock replied, stretching up and propping himself up on his backside, tapping lightly in front of his crossed legs to call the little dog to him. The blank looks on Rosie and John’s face told him they hadn’t understood what he’d just said. ‘Ah. Appear to have done it again. Emotion. I should have known he would have been a gift from Grand-mère and Grand-père. Ssank you, Rosie,’ he added, passing his arm around her. ‘Look, I think he’s pleassed that you want to share,’ he said, indicating the puppy frolicking between the two of them.

Rosie smiled happily settled with her back against Sherlock's chest and wiggling her fingers at the puppy who crouched with its hind end in the air and tail wiggling madly before pouncing carefully on Rosie with a happy yip before rolling over for more tummy rubs.

‘Are you boys decent and ready to come downstairs?’ asked Mr Holmes through the closed door. ‘Breakfast is ready, and we’d all love to take part in the joy _Rosie_ must have from her present,’ he added chuckling.  
Sherlock looked at John. _You were in on it. You knew about the dog, and you knew that he would make two people happy_ , Sherlock thought, his eyes shining a bit. ‘Yes, Father, give us a minute. We will be down promptly,’ he replied without missing a beat.

John grinned. ‘Busted. Your Mum called a few weeks ago wanting to know if it would be ok if they gave Rosie a puppy and that it would sort of be their gift to you without it being directly to you. I knew you'd both be over the moon with a puppy since I know you and Rosie often play with the dogs in the park. Mrs. Hudson didn't mind. She said ‘What are a few puppy piddle puddles when you've been shooting holes in the walls and destroying the floors with acid for years?’ He grinned with a shrug. ‘You really don't mind, do you…’

‘Of course I don’t mind, John. I really, really don’t,’ he replied with a smile, as he looked for clothes to put on. ‘Rosie, darling, can you get downsstairs? Papa needs to get ready,’ he explained. ‘And of course, your puppy comes with you,’ he answered her silent question. As soon as Rosie was through the door, Sherlock latched himself onto John who had stayed safely out of the way, observing his partner waking up and playing with their puppy with their daughter. He didn’t ask for anything, nor was he anything like the delicate man he had been just the night before. He devoured John’s lips, kissing him passionately and running his hands through his hair, his interest clearly evident as he pushed himself against John.

John laughed with a muffled yelp of surprise. Holding Sherlock close he smiled up at him. ‘So I'm guessing you're ok with us having a puppy around under foot and that I let your parents get you, and Rosie, a puppy...’

‘Clearly,’ replied Sherlock, put upon by John’s apparent lack of reaction. ‘Yes, yes, getting dressed, ready, all that,’ he said disentangling himself from John to put his clothes on.

John grinned pulling Sherlock back to bed and kissing him. ‘Get your plush arse back in this bed right now.’ Pinning him down gently, he smiled. ‘Just wanted it to be a surprise... One of several I have planned for today.’

Sherlock let John take control of the situation. ‘You know I don’t like surprises,’ he pouted. ‘Or knowing there’ll be one. Or worse, several. Can’t stop my brain from focussing on finding out what they are,’ he rambled, almost forgetting why he was back in bed with John pinning him down gently.

John smiled kissing him slowly and rocking against him teasingly. ‘Mm well then my genius your brain's just going to have to work overtime to get it all figured out. You realize she's going to name the puppy something Disney related, right?’

Sherlock gasped at John’s teasing. ‘Oh you’re a mean one, my dear. You shouldn’t be - ah - teasing. Mh, yes, that seems the most logical assumption,’ he answered after a fashion.

‘Tell me then, John,’ he breathed between kisses and John’s rocking into him. ‘How am I supposed to think if - ah - my blood flow goes downward instead of irrigating my brain?’

John smirked. ‘Well my dear bumble you'll just have to learn how to think like the rest of us poor mortals do all the time even when we have full blood supply to our brains,’ he teased him with a wicked grin. ‘And you won't think I'm so mean once you get your gifts. I'm sure of it.’

Sherlock groaned in frustration as John rocked one last time against him and got up as if nothing had happened. ‘Could you at least give me hints? And my clothes? Several layers. Please?’ he asked.

Snickering John tossed a few clothes for him on the bed. ‘I'd advise against any of your arse hugging trousers, love. Because they tend to hug other parts of you as well and right now I don't think you want that. And no. You can't have any hints because you'd deduce it and ruin the surprise.’

Sherlock huffed softly. ‘Fine. I won’t even try to deduce it, then.’ He marked a short pause. ‘Yes, I don’t think it’d be… terribly appropriate. Although I would dearly bring my brother and Greg to a state of profound… embarrassment.’ He grabbed the pair of jeans John had given him. ‘Hope these will do,’ he commented. ‘I refuse to put anything else but a shirt on top. I’ll let you choose the colour. Deep purple or navy blue?’

John smiled head cocked slightly as he thought. ‘Navy. The purple one's snug and I've been known to refer to it in my head as the purple shirt of sex, so yeah, navy. And I'm sure you'll think of plenty of other ways to traumatize your brother and Greg. The jeans are snug, but not as snug as your trousers. Besides, jeans are a little more suited to playing in the snow with Rosie and the puppy than your ridiculously expensive trousers.’

'The purple one is new, John. You've never seen me wearing it. Although… I did notice that your body was… particularly responsive to it. It is fair of you to assume that it would be equally...fitted. I'll have you know that my trousers, while expensive indeed, are not _ridiculously_ so,' he huffed.

‘Yes they are.’ He chuckled. ‘You have no idea how often people are taking a good long look at you and your rather perfectly fitted trousers. Just glad you insist on wearing your coat most of the time so people don't see too much.’

'Do they?' Sherlock asked, visibly surprised. 'Something must be done about that. Make it clear that I am not… or ever again will be… available,' he declared.

‘Well I'm sure we can come up with some way of making it _very_ clear that you are _not_ available. Never have liked it much when people stare at you like they want to rip your clothes off,’ he shook his head.

Shrugging he looked at the shirt. ‘Well the colour's similar to that other purple one you have. I think that one's more… reddish... and this one's just more... purple-y... You know I'm terrible with colours.’  
Sherlock groaned with slight irritation. 'You are. This one is burgundy. The other one you happen to like so much is aubergine - however I am not certain you prefer that I wear it or that you unbutton it,' he added in a soft chuckle as he buttoned his shirt on. 'Appropriate?'  
‘Burgundy, aubergine, wine, plum, lilac, lavender... All look about the same to me. Worse is that there are only about 8 million different shades of navy blue. For now, I prefer you wearing it. Less distracting for me.’ Chuckling he kissed him softly. ‘You look gorgeous.’

Sherlock indulged in the soft kiss that John was pressing against his lips. 'Don't I always?' he asked cheekily. 'I'll try not to be distracting, but I'm sure that doesn't prevent you from _thinking_ of taking it off,' he added teasingly. 'The only person whom I want to rip my clothes off,' he said insisting on the verb, 'is you,' he finished in a low rumble of voice.

John growled softly nipping at Sherlock's lip and running his hands over his chest slowly. ‘Mm it's going to be hard to think about getting you out of your clothes. Maybe we'll be able to sneak in a bit of fun whenever Rosie's down for her afternoon nap. And I think maybe after you get your gifts you'll want to get me alone to thank me.’

He arched an eyebrow. 'A… A bit of fun?' he asked, suddenly realising he may have been unabashedly flirting with John. He was his partner, but the act of sex still alarmed him. 'We should get downstairs,' he said all but fleeing John's tender caresses. 'They'll be waiting for us, and you know how Rosie gets if she has to _wait_ ,' he reasoned.

John gently grabbed his hand holding him in place. ‘Sherlock, love. Stop. Breathe. It's ok. I'd more than happily just fall into bed and cuddle for a bit or sit on the sofa and sip your mum's mulled cider watching cheesy Christmas movies. It's ok. I'm not going to push you. I was just having a bit of fun. Breathe for me. Slow. In… out...’

John's voice and his hold on his hand was all that was necessary for him to calm down. 'I'm sorry. I overreacted. You were having a bit of fun because I - and I didn't even realise I was doing it. I'll work on that, I promise you,' he said, breathing slowly out.

‘It's ok love. We'll both work on it. This is a bit new for both of us. It's going to take some figuring out on both our parts. I need to be a little more aware of your sensitivity on the issue and not make so many comments or suggestions. You need to know that I don't always mean it. Well, I _do_ mean it, but I mean we don't have to do what I suggest. As long as we're together, I'm happy.’

‘So am I, John. Nevertheless… I must learn to discern that what I am saying can… have a double meaning. I’m sure my… sensitivity on the issue will not… bother us for long. At least I hope not. I think we should er, explore this area more. Repetitive and deeper exposure to the problem should prove helpful,’ he declared, in a tone conveying his willingness to move forward and beyond that particular issue.

‘Later. Tonight. When we're both more relaxed.’ Nodding with a soft smile he kissed him gently. ‘And there's no rush, love. None at all. We'll just take things one step at a time. Nice and slow. We'll figure it all out together. What works for us.’

‘I know,’ he stated, returning John’s soft kiss. ‘In the meantime, I think they might be becoming impatient downstairs,’ he chuckled when they heard Rosie calling them. ‘I don’t think her highness can wait for us any longer,’ he said, hand in John’s as he went towards the door.

‘And we can let her decide how to decorate and get her into a real bed,’ he smiled. Rosie was sitting in the middle of the living room floor playing with the puppy while Sherlock's father watched them sipping tea. Greg smiled. ‘Well looks like Santa left one more present, huh.’

Sherlock smiled. ‘Indeed it does. Apparently, Rosie is more than happy that he did,’ Sherlock replied.

‘Don’t pretend you’re not pleased either, Sherlock,’ his mother scolded him lightly, working near the oven, finishing the last details of the roast turkey. Siger chuckled. ‘That’s true, son, you’ve been asking for a dog almost as soon as you could talk. You can’t fool us,’ he concluded.

John smiled. ‘Well I know Mrs. Hudson will feel a bit better being home alone, especially with Rosie, if there's a faithful watchdog to bark and alert her of anyone who might not be the sort we'd want around. Not to mention that it's really good for kids to grow up with a dog.’

‘Quite right. He’ll have to be trained for that, though,’ Sherlock commented.

Rosie toddled to Sherlock tugging at the leg of his jeans. ‘Papa come play.’

‘Yes, Rosie darling. In a moment. Your daddy would be cross with me if I did not sit down for a cup of tea and a toast. An opinion you share more often than not, might I add,’ he replied, scooping her up in his arms to kiss her and booped her nose before giving her a tight hug. ‘I promise we’ll play after,’ he told her solemnly.

Wrapping her arms around his neck she giggled laying her head on his shoulder. ‘Ok Papa. Toast an' jam pwease. We share.’ Johns smiled at them gently picking up the puppy as it tried to chew on his shoes. ‘And have we decided on a name for this little ball of fluff yet, Rosie?’  
Mouth full of toast and a smear of jam on her cheek she nodded making her curls bob. ‘Sultan,’ John nodded. ‘Sultan. Right. Nice name.’ Sighing Rosie pointed to one of her Belle storybooks with the footstool on the front. ‘Dat Sultan. Was doggie den he footie shelf.’

Sherlock sipped his tea. 'I agree. It is a nice name. Fit for a princely dog,' Sherlock chuckled. 'Now, what do you think, hm, Sultan? Do you agree?' The pup yapped happily. 'John, put him down, would you? Can't you see Sultan wants to explore the house?'

John smiled. ‘Well I hadn't had much of a chance to say hello between you and Rosie hogging him this morning. And didn't the dog, footstool, whatever it is... have a different name in the new version? It was something very French... Fifi... No... FrouFrou? Yeah. I think that was it. That's a pretty name.’   
Rosie huffed looking up at Sherlock like John was a complete idiot. ‘Papa...’

Sherlock shook his head in disappointment. 'John… That's a terrible name. And utterly ridiculous,' he huffed. 'You should be ashamed for just suggesting that,' he said, proceeding to cross his arms over his chest. 'That will _not_ do,' he concluded, managing to both chide him and pout.

Rosie nodded crossing her arms and looking almost exactly like Sherlock as a child. ‘Bad name. Stoopid. Sultan. No Foo Foo!’

John laughed. ‘Ok, ok, I know when I'm outvoted. It was just a suggestion. Didn't mean we had to go with it.’ Kissing both of them on the cheek he smiled. ‘You two are quite the pair.’

Sherlock maintained his childish, disapproving posture, and Rosie did the same. 'Now, Sherlock. Behave,' chided his mother. 'There's no reason to act this way,' she added. 'Eat,' she insisted. 'Rosie has already eaten _your_ piece of toast and showed you what was to be done with food. Now is time to act like an adult.'

John grinned kissing her cheek. ‘I'm thinking we need to visit more often and have you come visit us more often too. Someone else to nag Sherlock to eat besides me, Rosie, and Mrs. Hudson.’  


Mycroft had come into the room as John had suggested that other name. He had sighed internally at the morning drama that might have ensued had it only been Sherlock's - now, _this_ was certainly an interesting thought. He vowed to look into it. Too much resemblance between them. One or two similarities were not unheard of in toddlers unrelated to their step-parents. Sherlock and Rosie, however, had a score too many. Coincidences were a ludicrous idea that suited the common mind.   
Greg looked at Mycroft. ‘I know that look. That's the wheels are spinning look. You and Sherlock have the exact same look when you're on to something. What is it?’

Mrs Holmes smiled warmly. 'I agree. Not only to insist my son eats properly, of course,' she added smiling at Rosie who was now looking Sherlock intently. 'Papa. Eat,' she said in a tone that broke no argument.  
'Gregory…' Mycroft whispered. 'Surely you've noticed it, as well. They are extremely alike,' he answered. 'A little too much so to be... coincidental.'

Greg shrugged. ‘She's been around Sherlock a lot since she was just days old. Whenever Mary'd go off doing whatever it was she'd do, John would take Rosie over to see Mrs. Hudson and would just happen to have to run some errands which would allow Rosie and Sherlock some time together. Usually he was desperate for someone to talk to over a pint. Not unusual for a little one her age to pick up on someone's actions and how they talk. Kids that age are parrots. Mimic everyone and everything.’

'I don't believe in coincidences,' Mycroft replied. 'I know this, Gregory. There is something more to it. I will not let this rest until I know for certain - ' he interrupted himself. What use would be in continuing his line of thought out loud? 'I assume you and him talked a lot, then,' he replied. 'His desperation was logical if one considers everything that transpired... later. Including the latest... developments,' he concluded, somewhat thoughtfully. He was not quite certain his baby brother would grow out of his easily alarmed state over...a particular subject.

Greg sighed. ‘It was hard on him. He was giving it his all and it was never enough. He'd do exactly what she wanted exactly as she wanted and she'd still tear him down for it. I heard a couple of her rants when he'd answer his phone. Not pretty. When she wasn't teasing him about Sherlock, she was belittling him, his methods, reminding John that Sherlock was an addict, throwing a fit if John left her with Mrs. Hudson and Sherlock might be there. Wasn't overly fond of Mrs. Hudson given her past and Sherlock's involvement in Frank meeting his end. No matter what John said or did, it wasn't right and he was a worthless sack of shite. Then she'd cry, blame her hormones, turn on the charm and he'd suck it up and go home...’

'Exact depiction of an abusive person. One cannot mourn her loss, least of all him, I suppose. He did, however, and the reason remains a mystery to me,' he replied. 'In light of what you told me, I can hardly blame Mrs Norbury for what happened. No one should be allowed to... insult my brother and live to tell the tale. Especially if that person also happens to have a hold on Sherlock's... pressure point,' he snarled. 'Before you ask, I did not have anything to do with her demise,’ he added. ‘Please do not repeat this emotional reaction to anyone,’ he asked as an afterthought.

Greg smirked. ‘You didn't have to because your dear ol' Mum beat you to the punch. Mrs H is a real gossip when she's had one of her evening herbal soothers. She let it slip to your mum that Mary shot Sherlock and how serious it was. That did _not_ go over well.  Your secret's safe with me,’ he kissed his cheek.  
‘I should have known Mother had a hand in it,’ he reflected. ‘She did say that she would turn ‘absolutely monstrous’ if she ever found out who shot Sherlock,’ he remembered and smiled at Greg’s open display of affection. ‘Thank you, Gregory.’ _Sherlock must be feeling better than yesterday. Gregory’s demonstration of tenderness does not seem to bother him_ , he thought to himself.

Greg chuckled softly. ‘Yeah, well your mother is not someone to be crossed. I think anyone who meets her can figure that out pretty damn quick. And you're very welcome. Just think you two should maybe try to get along a little better. At least for Rosie's sake. She's not gonna like you two bickering. She won't understand for a few years yet that it's just how you two are.’

Mycroft nodded. ‘Agreed. I will make an effort. I do have to tell you, however,’ he whispered. ‘Sherlock’s fugue yesterday was not entirely of my...making. I know he’s working on it at the moment, but…’ Mycroft marked a long pause and inhaled deeply. ‘It has to do with sex. He is... easily alarmed and... as he can read every indicator off an unguarded person... Our activities... upset him,’ he finished, his whispering voice gone even lower, ashamed as he was to inform Gregory that he had a role to play in it as well.  
Greg nodded. ‘I suspected. Got to be a bit awkward. Glad to see he's more or less over it. I know John will help him. I don't know everything about what went on in the days before I met him, but I've known enough people in hi situation to guess. It'll take time. At least he's got a good partner who understands and will help him.’

'Quite so, Gregory. Only time will help him. I concur. John's understanding about the whole affair makes it easier. You and I should er, be careful about what we let on,' he insisted.

Greg nodded. ‘We'll just be more careful and discreet. No need to make it difficult for Sherlock to handle. Can't say as I blame him. Must be a bit awkward.’

Mycroft rose an eyebrow. ‘Everything is awkward with Sherlock. This, I must admit, I had not... expected. As you said, however, John is... patient and understanding. Your decision to have us more...discreet is welcome. I don’t -’ Mycroft cut himself short. ‘I don’t want him to feel awkward around such an... important subject,’ he declared, squeezing Gregory’s hand.

Greg nodded, rubbing his thumb across Mycroft's knuckles. ‘I'll be sure to keep my shampoo and stuff at your place so that I'll smell like myself and not your stuff whenever I'm around him. I'm sure he'll still figure it out but I hope it won't be quite so obvious. At least until he gets more comfortable with the idea of us and our relationship. I want to make this as easy on him as possible. Probably seems like it came out of nowhere to him.’

‘I can assure you, it did. As for most people. Keeping your shampoo and washing gel at mine would be a very good first step. I’ll have to train you into schooling your body language to make our relationship even less obvious,’ Mycroft said in a murmur. ‘It should not, but the idea of training your body holds a certain... _appeal_ to me,’ he continued, voice dropping to a suggestive barely audible whisper.

Greg smiled. ‘I'll enjoy your lessons. They're always very enjoyable. We'll just have to make sure that when I'm completely exhausted from pulling eighteen hours on a case that it's not so obvious. That'll be the hard part of all this,’ smirking he nuzzled his cheek. ‘Mm... sounds very appealing…’

‘I can assure you I will make it very appealing. You need only follow... instructions,’ Mycroft whispered in Gregory’s ear. ‘The hard part, hm, Gregory?’  
Greg glanced over at Mycroft with a smile. ‘You are a bloody tease Mycroft Holmes and I'm going to make sure you get what's coming to you for teasing me like this...’

‘Promises, promises,’ murmured Mycroft.

  
John tickled Rosie's foot as she sat in Sherlock's lap. ‘Are you gonna help me and Papa take good care of Sultan? Make sure he's always got food and water and help us take him on walks in the park.’   
She nodded. ‘Yup! He donna feep wif me. Share my bed.’   
John smiled. ‘Well, sweetheart, he'll have his own bed. And of course the sofa and chairs and wherever else he wants. You both need your sleep to grow big and strong.’

Lower lip jutting out and tears threatening to spill she looked up at Sherlock. ‘Papa? He no feep wif me?’

Sherlock curled his arms around her. ‘He will have his own bed to sleep in. I doubt he will want to use it, however,’ he reassured her, kissing her forehead.  
Snuggling into Sherlock with a sniffle Rosie nodded slightly eyes welling with tears. John sighed deeply. ‘I don't see any reason that he can't have his bed by yours. That way you two will be real close. And I suppose that if he ends up in your bed there's not a lot that can be done about it...’

‘Hear that Rosie? It’s a luminous idea, isn’t it? I knew your Daddy was full of fantastic ideas,’ he said brushing her cheeks with his thumbs for any tear that would have escaped. He smiled at John, still clutching fiercely Rosie in his arms. ‘She can still tell him to go to his bed if she’s ever cross with him. I believe learning to tell Sultan ‘no’ might be good, actually. If she can tell someone she likes off, that does make it more likely she’ll be able to tell off someone she doesn’t like,’ he commented. ‘But you’ll have to be the one to teach her how to be tactful,’ he completed.

John smiled, pleased with the solution and Sherlock's logical look at the situation. ‘I think that'll work out just fine.’ Leaning closer he took her hand gently. ‘And Papa and I were talking and we think it's time you had your own room. You and Sultan can have the whole room upstairs to yourselves. Papa was very nice and said I could share his room. When we get home we'll let you pick out a big girl bed and what colour you want us to paint the walls.’ Looking up at Sherlock to make sure all of this was right she nodded slightly.

Sherlock had brightened up when John evoked their sleeping arrangements while Mrs Holmes shared a look with her husband. 'About time,' she said, uncaring that her sons would hear her. 'They've been dancing around each other for ages,' she continued, rolling her eyes.   
Siger chuckled kissing her cheek. ‘Quite right my dear. It's good to see them doing so well after Sherlock's difficulty yesterday. John's incredibly patient with him.’

‘Patient is an understatement when it comes to Sherlock,’ she replied. ‘I am certain, however, that it will do them good. Knowing him, they’ll be better probably sooner rather than later, I would say.’

Siger smiled with a chuckle. ‘It'll be nice to see the boys more often. Under the pretence of visiting Rosie and taking her places. I'm sure she'll love Benjamin Pollock's toyshop as much as the boys did. And of course a trip to Hamley's will have to be made. Along with book shops and museums.’

‘I doubt we’ll be able to see much of Mycroft... there’s only so much I can do to distract him from his... work,’ Violet replied, throwing a sideways glance at her eldest and Gregory. She stood up straighter and declared that these trips would be very much appreciated, even though Sherlock would not admit to it. The toy shops, obviously. ‘Sherlock has always adored going to book shops. Museums, not so much - he did insult the guides for lacking knowledge most of the time we went, did he not? Rosie and John will most certainly rejoice in these particular outings,’ she stated.

‘I know John and Rosie will have fun. And at least they'll have Sherlock there to give the accurate information. He'd enjoy playing museum guide for Rosie. I'm certain she'll be as fascinated by the mummies and dinosaurs as Sherlock was at her age. We'll take her to the toy stores, the zoo, museums, book stores. She'll have a wonderful time. What was that ice cream shop that the boys enjoyed so much? I'm certain Rosie would enjoy that.’

  
'And of course if you want to help us paint your room, you can. It is your room, after all. Something must show it,' Sherlock pursued, still smiling.  
Looking back and forth between them she nodded slowly cheering up at the idea of her own room. It was nice sharing with Daddy but having her own room to share with Sultan would be extra nice. Sultan put his front paws against Sherlock's leg with a whine at Rosie wanting to play.  
Sherlock ignored Sultan, plea for attention – he was still not fully functioning – and put Rosie on the floor. ‘Go, darling. Sultan seems to be adamant to play.’

‘Another family trait,’ he heard his mother quip as she busied herself with the vegetables and potatoes they’d be having later on.

‘I’ll be with you shortly,’ he said cupping her cheeks. ‘You know how long I can be in waking up-’

‘And actually eating breakfast,’ John argued. ‘Never would have thought you to stop for something so mundane but here we are,’ he remarked affectionately.

Sherlock nodded. ‘Yes. That’s what happens when I’m confronted with something _new_ ,’ he answered. ‘I need time to think it through. No, I’m not speaking about you and I sharing the bedroom,’ he huffed.  
John got up to refill his and Sherlock's tea and getting another piece of toast to share with Sherlock. The thick homemade bread was toasted just enough to be slightly crisp on the outside but soft and fluffy inside. Spreading a thick layer of local honey on the bread he cut it in half. ‘Come on love, finish your tea. I warmed it up for you. And there's honey on the bread. You take all the time you need to figure things out. We'll work it all out together.’

Sherlock was horrified. ‘You... _warmed up_ my tea?’ He heaved a long-suffering sigh. ‘I’ve had enough t -’ A single look from John made him close his mouth. ‘How did you know I liked this specific honey? I never have honey at home,’ he said, his eyes narrowing slightly. Sherlock closed his eyes in delight as he bit into the toast John had given him and let escape a very soft _hm_ of appreciation.  
Rosie sat on the floor leaning against Sherlock's legs. She always knew when he wasn't feeling the best and stayed extra close to him. Tossing a toy for Sultan she giggled as he skidded across the floor slightly uncoordinated. ‘Silly puppy!’ Leaning over she kissed the top of his head when he brought the toy back to her.

‘Yes, they are rather silly, aren’t they?’ he replied to Rosie. ‘I suppose that’s part of what makes them so adorable.’

‘Yes, I warmed up your tea. Just like I do at home. You just don't notice because you're too busy thinking or working on an experiment. And I put extra honey in it. And we'll take some of the honey home with us. I know you like honey so I figured putting some n a piece of toast might tempt you into eating just a bit more.’ Rosie giggled playing with Sultan. Looking up at Sherlock's toast and tea she smiled. ‘Papa toast an' tea pwease? Share?’

Sherlock took a breath in as if he were about to retort something, but he thought better of it and only whispered ‘teacosy’. He stopped for a second at John’s comment. ‘Thank you. John. I’m sure Rosie will like it a lot as well,’ he said, delicately cutting the piece of toast in half and handing one to Rosie. ‘Here. Indulge your sweet tooth, darling - but not too much otherwise your Daddy might be cross. Even on Christmas Day, I’m afraid, there are _rules_ ’ he said in a petulant tone that showed that he clearly disagreed with these. ‘ _Waiting_ for opening presents is one,’ he added sullenly.

John smiled leaning over to kiss the top of Sherlock's head. ‘Good things come to those who wait. It's worth it. I promise. And I think an exception on sweets can be made for Christmas. Besides, it's just a bit of honey. Not like it's candy.’

Sherlock crossed his arms, and pouted. ‘It better be,’ he grumbled. ‘How long?’ he questioned, his eyes shining with excitement despite his sulking and the waiting rule.

Rosie’s eyes sparkled as well, her question plain as the nose in the middle of a face.

‘Everyone was a child, once, sweetheart. Father Christmas doesn’t want grownups to forget that, and remind them all to be well-behaved towards one another,’ explained Mrs Holmes.

 

‘Now, Myc, _behave_. I thought I had raised you better than that - Your father and I,’ she amended. ‘Stop with the muttering and whispering. Or share with the rest of us all,’ she told him in a strict tone.

Greg smiled innocently. ‘Just a bit of important government related business. Nothing that would interest anyone else. Believe me. Myc's just complaining about a very boring meeting he has to sit through tomorrow afternoon.’

‘Be that as it may, Myc you ought to know better,’ she reprimanded him. ‘It’s Christmas. Leave your business at home.’

Mycroft nodded and pressed his hand onto Gregory’s lower back, thanking him for his intervention.

Greg smiled charmingly. ‘If I've told him that once I've told him that a _million_ times. But you know how it is. Especially when it's a meeting he dreads going to because the people are incredibly boring.’

 

John smiled running his hand through Sherlock's dark curls. ‘Not much longer, bumble. Just want you to finish your breakfast. Then we'll all sit down and you can open your presents. I'm sure Rosie will be more than occupied playing with Sultan to pay much attention to the fact she's not getting more presents,’ he chuckled.

‘Fine, John,’ Sherlock declared, eating as fast as he could.

‘Whoever said Rosie was the only child here?’ gently teased his father.  
John rolled his eyes laughing. ‘Fine, fine, fine, we'll do your presents since you just can't wait. Rosie has presents for everyone that she's been so eager to give, isn't that right sweetheart.’   
Rosie smiled petting a napping Sultan who had curled up in her lap. ‘Yup! For Papa an' Unca Gweg an' Unca Mycrotoft, an' Gwammy an' Gwampa.’

Sherlock beamed, bits of crust on the sides of his mouth. ‘Won’ bee a m’men’,’ he said, jumping out of his seat to retrieve the presents, still carefully tucked away in their room, he had carefully prepared for John - and those he had less carefully planned for his parents, as well as the one John had planned for Greg.

John smiled as he picked up Rosie and Sultan. ‘Come on you two. Let's get the rest of the presents ready.’ Settling in the living room with Mycroft's carefully wrapped present and the large envelope for Sherlock he watched Rosie and Sultan chase each other.

‘Even at 37 he behaves like a 5 year old,’ tutted Mrs Holmes, shaking her head in mock disappointment.

‘One of the reasons we love him so much, isn’t that right, darling?’

‘Quite so.’

Sherlock arrived moments later, his face half hidden by the colossal amount of presents - or their sizes.

‘Eager to receive as well as eager to give, brother dear?’

‘You’re really into the Christmas spirit, Sherlock. John clearly has a fantastic influence on you,’ Greg added, to retrieve any... connotation Mycroft’s words had that could have had upset Sherlock. They _just_ had discussed his issues on this particular topic.

John laughed, shaking his head. ‘He never does anything by halves, does he? Makes my pile of things look pretty small. But good things come in small packages. I can promise you that, Sherlock.’   
  
Greg smiled nudging Mycroft in the ribs to tone it down just a little bit. He didn't want Sherlock taking another turn for the worse. ‘Might want to think before you speak, Myc.’

‘Oh,’ Mycroft muttered, realising what he’d just said. ‘Indeed. Again, thank you for saving my…’

Greg chuckled. ‘Mm my pleasure Myc, my pleasure. Wouldn't want any part of you to be hurt.’


	12. Happy Family

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Christmas continues with feelings (and presents) galore.

‘Arrr!’ Sherlock exclaimed. ‘Behold the bounty I found upstairs!’ He paused for a millisecond after hearing John’s comment. ‘Ah, but if we were to add them together, the pile would be gigantic. Father Christmas himself could not have managed on his own. I want you to open yours first, John,’ he declared with the utmost seriousness.

John smiled. 'Well what if Rosie and I want you to open yours first? How are we going to settle this? Flip a coin? And you know she has something very special for Mycroft.'

‘No. Mother will decide. She is acting as honorary Father Christmas. Well, Mother Christmas is more accurate. He said so in the letter he left,’ Sherlock replied, casually giving a letter to his mother. He doubted Rosie would look too closely on adults being "honorary Father Christmas" but one could never be certain. She was a very special and intelligent child and that was not to be taken lightly.

John chuckled. 'Mm so it seems. Well maybe Rosie should go first then since she has something very special.' Carefully handing her the long rectangular box he kissed her cheek. 'Go on sweetheart.' With Sultan at her heels she carried it to Mycroft setting it in his lap with a beaming smile. 'Happy Kissmas Unca Mycrotoft.'

Mycroft eyed the box suspiciously for a second, sent a glance to Gregory _who did not indicate anything. Infuriating man_ and dropped to receive the package.

‘For me, Rosie? Are you certain?’ As she fiercely nodded he laughed ‘Thank you very much, Rosie. I’m certain it’s... perfect.’ _If Sherlock hasn’t led you to decide on this... particular object._

John smiled putting his arm around Sherlock. 'Nope. She picked it out all by herself. Insisted it was perfect for you.'  
Rosie smiled bouncing eagerly. 'Open! Open!! I help? Pwease?' She touched the sparkling velvet ribbon gently trying to resist pulling on it until she was given permission to help.

‘Yes, let’s add another velvety ribbon to your collection. So you can do Sherlock’s hair,’ he mockingly added with a smirk. When Rosie had taken the ribbon off, he took a sharp letter opener. ‘I am very well aware it is not its proper use, but this present is special. And as such, I am going to open the wrapping paper with the utmost care,’ he explained to Rosie as he saw her open her eyes wide, clearly thinking that he had forgotten how to open a present.

Holding very still Rosie watched Mycroft carefully cut the tape holding the paper around the box. 'Be vewy tareful,' she nodded. 'No wip pweddy paper.'  
John chuckled kissing Sherlock's cheek. 'He's going to love this.'

‘Yes, I think he is,’ Sherlock replied. He took one step away from John, however. _Too much._ ‘Uncle Mycroft puts the "full" in carefulness. He will not _rip_ the paper apart. In fact, I am almost certain he will keep it when he’s finished. In approximately half an hour,’ Sherlock teased.

Mycroft levelled his eyes at Sherlock’s words, glaring at him.

‘Ah, what do we have here?’ he wondered as he was met with the cardboard package. ‘Another mystery. Let’s see,’ he said pulling the lid off. He took the object in his hands, carefully examining it. His cheeks flushed. ‘It’s... beautiful. An umbrella. This, I admit, is practical. Why a unicorn?’ he asked Rosie very seriously.

Rosie smiled bouncing with excitement. 'Betause you da guvernmunt an' dere a unitorn on da papers on you desk,' she nodded seriously. 'It pweddy.'  
John smiled. 'As soon as she saw it she knew you had to have it. Wouldn't leave the shop until we got it.'

Mycroft's cheeks went red with embarrassment. _Even Sherlock hasn't spotted that._ 'A sound reasoning, Rosie. Thank you very much.' His answer was somewhat stilted as he knew that he would have to use this umbrella every single time Rosie was in the vicinity lest she'd think he didn't like her present. And apparently Gregory would not let him _not_ use this umbrella either.  
Greg smiled. 'It's lovely, Rosie. What a thoughtful gift. I know Mycroft will carry that everywhere with him and will think of you every time.'  
'I couldn't agree more. Rosie, darling, you will make a fine detective,' said Sherlock approvingly.

She smiled brightly up at Mycroft. 'For good luck. It pweddy.' Tipping her head back she looked at Sherlock upside down. 'I do good deducshun!'

Sherlock ruffled her hair, smiling broadly. ‘Yes, you do, darling. John? Open yours?’ he asked trying to contain his excitement - and failing.

John smiled. 'Rosie want to help me open this? You can tear the paper all apart. I don't mind. I'm not as careful as Uncle Mycroft.' Opening the box he smiled. 'Sherlock, it's beautiful. And absolutely perfect.' Rosie rubbed her cheek against it. 'Soft!'

Sherlock looked almost bashful. ‘Do you like it, then?’ Despite John’s words, he was still... unsure how this jumper would be received. Too high quality? Not comfortable enough? Too much of a hassle to keep clean? No, there always was Mycroft’s dry-cleaning services. He wouldn’t send it to any old one, quality should be treated with the utmost respect.

Pulling his jumper off, John pulled the new one on. 'It's wonderfully soft. I love it.' Getting up he kissed Sherlock's cheek. 'It's absolutely perfect. I love it. A perfect replacement for my old one that's definitely seen better days.'

Sherlock beamed and embraced John. ‘I’m happy you approve. You’re not… mad at the quality?’ he asked, evidently not wanting to say the word ‘expense’ within reach of Rosie’s hearing.  

'I know I should be but it's incredibly soft and comfortable and my old one was getting a bit worse for the wear. I was thinking I'd have to replace it soon and you saved me the trouble. You know I hate shopping for clothes.' Cupping his cheek he kissed him gently. 'Thank you.'

Sherlock kissed him back, gently and looked into his eyes. ‘You’re welcome,’ he said, basking in the sheer joy he could see in John’s eyes.

'It's absolutely perfect, love. Thank you for saving me the trouble of going shopping for a new jumper,' he chuckled slipping an arm around him. 'Normally I'd be a bit put out but I like it too much to really care at the moment.'

Sherlock nodded. 'I'm glad you're not, then,' he replied with an easy smile. 'And Rosie approves.'

John chuckled. 'Maybe when Sultan's stopped growing. Right now he'd probably just try and chew off a nice jumper. Why don't you get Papa's special present.' Carefully setting her down she hurried to bring back the large plain envelope. 'Here Papa! Open!!'

The room had become eerily quiet. As if everyone was aware of what the envelope contained. Sherlock quirked an eyebrow.  
‘I - I can’t deduce _anything_ from this. It’s too... plain. No trace of anything.’ He was clearly unsettled. Rosie’s eager eyes shone even more brightly. ‘Open!’ she insisted.  
Sherlock carefully took the sharp letter opener his brother had used to open his own present. Meticulously, he eyed the paper - no _papers_ \- that the envelope contained before taking them out properly. He sat on the nearest chair to read them. It couldn’t be some boring paper about law. It had to be important if Joh-

 

 

 

 

“ _By Her Majesty Passport Office,_

 

_We hereby declare Mister William Sherlock Scott Holmes, born 6th January 1980 and residing at 221b Baker Street W1, London to be the adoptive parent and legal guardian of Rosie Watson, born 14th February 2016 to Mister John Hamish Watson and his wife, Mrs Mary Elizabeth Watson (deceased)._

 

_HM Passport Office”_

 

“ _Rosie Watson was born on 14th February 2016 to Mister John Hamish Watson and his wife Mrs Mary Elizabeth Watson (deceased)._

_By accord of legal adoption papers, Mister William Sherlock Scott Holmes is considered for all intents and purposes as her father and legal guardian.”_

 

Sherlock carefully put the papers on the kitchen table, hands trembling. His eyes filled with tears, he closed them, slowly, so as not to cry on these extremely official papers of paramount importance. He turned to look at John and opened his mouth - but no sound would come out of it.  

Rosie climbed up in his lap hugging him. 'No cry Papa! No cry!  No sad.'

John laid a gentle hand on his shoulder. 'Sorry to spring it on you but I really wanted it to be a surprise. This makes it all official. You're her father as much as I am. Medical decisions, school stuff, anything, anything at all and you can make the decisions same as me. Is it ok...?'

Sherlock held Rosie tight, and smiled through his tears. 'I am not sad, little Princess. Not sad at all,' he said, tears still running freely down his face as he beckoned John to come to him. He held on him for dear life. 'Of course, it is. It is more than just 'ok', my dear, dearest John,' he declared, tightening his grip on him more fiercely. 'It's actually the best present, the best surprise you could have ever done me,' he admitted.

John smiled. 'So, was it worth the wait and the not knowing to get a gift like that? It just felt right. You're as much her father as I am. I want you to be part of her life in every way. And so does she. One big happy family.'

'It was without any kind of doubt worth the wait,' replied Sherlock with absolute certainty, still clutching at both of them. 'Rosie... Rosie _knew_ as well? And could... hold her tongue?' he asked incredulously after a moment.

John smiled. 'I didn't tell her the specifics. Just that there was a very special present in the envelope for Papa. I figured if I told her the details she'd ask questions or tell you about it. I told her it was a special surprise and not to say anything about it.'  
Rosie nodded with a smile. 'Secwet. No tell secwet.'

'That's my girl,' Sherlock revelled at the new meaning qualifying Rosie as _his_ had. 'Forgive the sentiment and the horrible cliché, but I am be the happiest man on earth and forever thankful for what brought us all three together'.  
Mrs Holmes clasped her hands on her chest, uncaring that a few tears were welling up in her eyes and Siger beamed with pride.

Siger put his arm around her kissing her temple and passing her his handkerchief. 'Here, Poppy. We're both proud of John's decision. It really is the best thing for Rosie. Make certain everything is legal and proper.'  
  
Greg smiled up at Mycroft. 'I'm going to guess that you had a bit of something to do with all of this. Thank you.' He squeezed his hand. 'It means a lot to Sherlock. John too.'  
Mycroft nodded. ‘As they so often are, Gregory, your assumptions are correct,’ replied Mycroft smugly.

Greg chuckled leaning into Mycroft and kissing his cheek. ‘That was a good thing you did, fixing all those papers for John to make Sherlock Rosie's parent.’

‘Unca Mycrotoft is Fatter Kissmas!’ Rosie exclaimed, proud to have remembered the nickname her Papa had found on the train – and as Sherlock had instructed her, she clearly marked her Ts.

Mycroft looked over to Sherlock, throwing him a glare that would undoubtedly have been expressed out loud were it not for a nudge from Gregory, reminding him to behave.

  
John smiled. 'If we're going to be a family then we're going to be a family in every way. She already calls you Papa so I thought it would only be right if you were in every way possible.'

‘However, I do believe that your family would not have come to even exist without our dear parents, Sherlock.’

Still bewildered by John’s present, Sherlock silently acquiesced. After he had folded the letters properly and put them back in the plain envelope they had come from, he grudgingly let go of Rosie and John to whom he entrusted said envelope and stood up from his chair, if on somewhat wobbly limbs. He bent down to the pile of remaining gifts and took two with deliberate care. He presented his mother with a present. ‘I do hope you will like these,’ Sherlock said, almost bowing.  
‘Sherlock, you wouldn’t offer _anything_ if you didn’t _know_ I was going to enjoy it,’ she replied. Eyeing Rosie she asked her if she wanted another ribbon to her already large collection.

'Thank you, Rosie. You're being incredibly helpful,' Mrs Holmes commented, chuckling.  
'Just as she had in picking the ribbon,' Sherlock approved.

John smiled. 'I'd come home from work and the whole living room would be covered in bits of paper and ribbon everywhere and the two of them would be comparing colours and ribbon texture and sparkliness of paper and we'll be hoovering up bits of glitter for at least the next six months.'

'And you will like the reminder,' Sherlock replied easily. 'We will need framing these,' he added, indicating the letters.

Slipping his arm around Sherlock he kissed his cheek. 'We'll get them framed and keep them on the mantle for everyone to see.'

'Thank you, John,' replied Sherlock in a heartfelt answer as he leant into his embrace.

 

            Mrs Holmes walked to the kitchen table where Sherlock had sat to open his own gift. 'Oh, Sherlock!' she exclaimed as she read the name of the brand. 'Pecksniff! What a thoughtful gift!' she smiled brightly. 'Candles, I assume?'  
'You know me too well, Mother.'  
'They always are so creative in their scented candles. Now, which one have you picked, I wonder.'  
'Telling you wouldn't be playing fair,' he replied laughing. 'You'll have to go through all the trouble of dismantling the carefully tucked items, Mother,' he teased.

            Rosie climbed up on a chair. 'Smell! Dey smell yummy! I help Papa pick. Fowers an' yummy stuffs an' tea!'  
John smiled. 'Excellent choices. They definitely sound like scents that make up this home. They're perfect.'  
Rosie sniffed the tea candle. 'Yummy!'  
'They most definitely are,' chuckled Mrs Holmes, smelling the candles. 'And she hadn't been here yet. If I didn't know better, I would say your daughter was prescient.'  
'Don't diminish your Daddy's involvement in choosing, darling. He did come with us, remember?'  
'You didn't… You _actually_ went Christmas shopping, Sherlock? Now that's a first,' uttered a bewildered Gregory Lestrade.  
'I am certain that it was easier for him to go Christmas shopping in Brighton than in London, Gregory. A sentiment I can certainly appreciate.'

John smiled. 'We made a day of it. Took Rosie around to see all the lights and shop windows. Stopped for hot chocolate and biscuits more than once. It was actually very nice. And Sherlock carried Rosie when she got tired to save my shoulder from aching. I think he actually had fun.'

Rosie dashed through the living room trailing the ribbon behind her as Sultan chased after it tumbling over his slightly too big for the rest of him paws.

'You're ruining my reputation, John', whined Sherlock as if he hadn't been openly weeping minutes before. Seeing Rosie this happy with a ribbon and playing with a puppy almost brought back tears of joy. His. John had made her his. Unpredictable, wonderful man.  
'Father,' he said, bending yet again to take another present and regain the composure he was certain to be losing, 'this one is for you. Happy Christmas,' he told him, a warm smile on his face.

Siger smiled. 'Well thank you Sherlock. I'm certain you three had a wonderful time choosing the presents. I'll save the ribbon for Rosie and Sultan to play with later when that one they're using is a bit worse for the wear.' Carefully opening the box he took out the coffee grinder. 'What good timing. My old one finally gave it up for good earlier this week and I hadn't gotten around to getting a replacement. You know I love grinding beans and making my own blends.'  
'Custom coffee blends?' Greg smiled. 'Now I know I belong in this family! The coffee at the Yard is **_terrible_**. I can barely make myself drink the sludge. I think they scrape the banks of the Thames and then heat it up and serve it.'

Mycroft smirked. Sherlock rolled his eyes. John huffed. All three of them replied in the same voice. 'Obviously.'  
'I find that tea is much better, in any case,' Mrs Holmes replied in an even tone, happy to see that her sons had reached an agreement. 'Even if I do not dislike the smell of coffee nor a cup now and then.'

Siger smiled kissing her cheek. 'You happen to like my coffee blends. Especially the pastry one. Cinnamon, almond, macaroon flavours. That one's your favourite. Especially when I add a dash of vanilla bean infused cream to your coffee with a touch of the cinnamon sugar mix.'  
Greg sighed shaking his head. 'You really know how to kill a man, don't you?! Just the _thought_ of drinking something that good when I know I'm going back to sludge is enough to drive a man mad!'

'Runs in the family,' Sherlock whispered.  
'Of course I do, beloved magpie. And that one special ingredient,' she added seriously.  
'Mother...!' both Sherlock and Mycroft exclaimed.

'Looks like you expressing sentiment is… upsetting to your boys,' John explained with a chuckle.  
'Oh, dears,' she put a hand to both their cheeks. 'Even after all this time? Gregory you are more than welcome to come here as often as you wish or as your work permits,' she added, turning to him. 'Lord knows Siger misses male companionship and you happen to share two interests of his.'

John snickered carefully moving a chair out of Rosie's way before she could run into it since she was busy looking over her shoulder at Sultan as he chased after her. 'The extra ingredient is always love. Even with all the love I put in it, I can't get those two to eat 'the thing with peas'. It's a family recipe and they won't touch it.'  
Rosie shook her head. 'Mooshy. Blegh!'

'And there you have it!' he laughed.  


'You clearly need to come here more often, Gregory. I promise you will get all the necessary equipment for making your own blends.'  
Greg smiled. 'I'll make a point to come for a visit when I absolutely can't drink one more mug of the sludge they give us. Thank you for the invitation. And I promise I'll drag Mycroft along too. And probably bring Rosie and Sultan if her daddies don't mind.'

John exchanged a look with Sherlock who nodded. 'Why would we object to Rosie seeing her grandparents?' he asked incredulous.

Greg smiled. 'Well you may get tired of seeing me. It's nice to have a place in the country with good food, excellent coffee, and wonderful people. I try and get away whenever I can, but not really having a place well out of town to go to, I tend to just hang about and spend all my time off getting errands done, catching up on laundry, cleaning up my flat. All sorts of 'fun' things,' he chuckled. 'And I promise to drag Mycroft along on a regular basis.'

‘Tired of seeing you? That’s nonsense, my boy,’ replied Siger. ‘The first evidence of that is that _Mycroft_ has chosen you as a partner. As you very well know, he’s not always... tolerant of us "normal’ people",’ he chuckled.

Greg smiled sliding his arm around Mycroft. 'Well I try not to be overly ordinary and boring. I never got top marks in any of my classes but I did pretty well. I can usually follow most of what he's talking about.'

‘ _He_ is in the room, Gregory. I would appreciate that you wouldn’t talk about me as if I were not here,’ Mycroft said sternly. ‘Or do I have to make my presence known and noticeable to you?’ he added against his ear.

‘Richard Mycroft Jack Holmes! Didn’t I tell you off for whispering just moments ago?’

Mycroft’s mouth hung open as he cast an annoyed look at his mother.

Greg smirked. 'My mistake, love. I'll try not to let it happen again. You realise that from time to time I'm going to ''kidnap'' you from your office for your own good for a bit of a holiday.'

‘Yes, you’ve made that abundantly clear, Gregory. Although I am not certain it would entirely be for ‘'my own good’', as you put it.’

Greg tried not to snicker pulling Mycroft a bit closer and lightly kissing his cheek careful not to be so overly affectionate that it might bother Sherlock. 'Better mind her. I wouldn't put it past her to box your ears.'

 

'And of course the invitation extends to you too, John. You've been ever so good for Sherlock all these years, you should know you're always welcome. And I will give you a tip or two to make Sherlock and Rosie eat your family tradition,' she added conspiratorially.

John smiled. 'I'll take any tips I can get. She does love the veggie pasta we get at Angelo's. It's very colourful and she likes that. She doesn't even mind the chunks of vegetables in the sauce. Usually.' He shrugged with a smile. 'And I promise we'll try and come visit as often as possible. It'll be nice to get out of the city for a bit every now and then. Give her and Sultan lots of room to run.'

‘I know Myc’s work is very demanding. I wouldn’t insist on you dragging him here – however if anyone could, it would evidently be you,’ she smiled at Greg. ‘Do feel free to come whenever you want, Siger and I want to know our second son-in-law!’ Silence fell into the room. Mrs Holmes rolled her eyes. ‘It’s hardly a difficult leap,’ she commented.

‘Mother, _must_ you?’

‘Don’t start complaining, Sherlock. I will not let you leave this house without having given your man a few cooking tips, and I am certain that if you do, you will eat peas at lunchtime _and_ dinner. Be thankful I didn’t say anything of your relationship,’ she added under her breath. ‘Even though it wouldn’t surprise anyone, except for you, I’d wager.’

Sherlock adopted a very sullen look before sitting next to Rosie and Sultan. ‘Your highness, did you hear this threat? Your Daddy would have both you and I eat his special dish, and ask for your Grand-mère’s advice. I say that we should show our discontent but what are your thoughts about this whole affair?’

Rosie looked up at him pulling his arms apart and settling herself in his lap and kissing his cheek. Gently pushing on the corners of his mouth she shook her head. 'No frowny face, Papa. It Kwismas. No frowny on Kwismas.'

‘I bow to the superior knowledge and good manners presented to me by your ladyship. I shall not express my discontent,’ Sherlock sighed dramatically.

John laughed softly stroking Sherlock's hair. 'You like peas when they're in that dish Angelo makes with the lemon and the herbs and the crispy bits of pancetta. What's so horrible about my dish? And I've always been willing to negotiate on which vegetables you actually like and will eat.'

‘Your dish is too...uniform. Too bland. So... unlike **you**. You know that I favour originality over anything else, John. How can that have been so much of a mystery?’

John chuckled softly stroking Sherlock's hair. 'Because it's _comfort food_ , love. It's supposed to be a bit ordinary and simple. A tried and true recipe handed down through the generations that is special because it's something you associate with home and family and good times. It's not the dish itself that's special, it's everything that goes into making and sharing it.'

‘Clearly it’s not comforting to me,’ Sherlock huffed. ‘I will make an effort if it means _that_ much to you,’ he added seeing a flash of hurt cross John’s features. ‘Home… Well, you know I don’t associate _home_ with _simplicity_. I associate it with you and Rosie. With _adventures_ , John. I’m positive Rosie shares my view on the matter.’

John smiled softly. 'Guess you just don't have an appreciation for several generations of Watson's work on perfecting a truly good cottage pie and ''mushy'' peas that are seasoned with a bit of onion and mint. I make it when I'm feeling particularly good and things are going well. Or when we've had a stretch of rainy, cold days and a bit of comfort food makes it just a bit more bearable.'

‘Clearly. You could always... improve it and make it your _own_ recipe. I am not well-versed in traditions of any kind, but I was under the impression that Fatter Christmas wanted _all_ adults to be reminded of something. Or did I get that part wrong?’

John chuckled softly fingers gently running through Sherlock's hair. 'Mm you're right on both counts. I could try and make the recipe my own and I think he wanted the adults to appreciate the little things like home, family, and traditions.'

‘Speaking of traditions, John, I think it is time we carry on through yet another pile that _Father Christmas_ has left behind,’ retorted Mycroft, irritated by the new nickname his brother had given him and his bickering with John about a Watson’s culinary tradition. He was this close to forget everything he'd told Gregory about 'not making Sherlock uncomfortable'.

Greg nudged him in the ribs giving him a look that clearly meant that he was to behave himself for Rosie's sake and he'd be rewarded for his patience later.

'Well I guess we did forget about the rest of the presents.'

Rosie smiled with a giggle. 'More wibbons!!'

           

            Mrs Holmes simply walked over to John and held a light box to him. ‘I’m certain you’ll like that and will find it very useful. Sherlock does have a tendency to ignore… temperatures,’ she said expectant for John’s confirmation that Siger and her had made a very good choice.

John smiled kissing her cheek. 'Middle of winter and he's dashing about without his coat. Middle of summer and he refuses to take it off. What are we going to do with him?' Opening the box he lifted the jacket. 'Thank you. It's perfect. Light but warm. My black jacket's pretty good until it gets really cold or it's damp and raining. This should keep me warmer and my shoulder from hurting as much.'

Sherlock pretended he didn’t hear John’s complaint.

‘We’re both glad you like it. Put it on, John, please?’

Sherlock turned his head around to observe John as he put this new jacket on. He was properly relaxed from the massage he’d given him the day before, his shoulder visibly not hurting him. ‘Dashing!’ he couldn't help but say in a low voice, looking him over appreciatively, mouth slightly agape.

John raised a brow at Sherlock with a grin and subtle wink. He ran a hand over the smooth fabric that would repel the rain and damp. 'It really is perfect. I keep meaning to get something like this for myself but just never get around to it."

Sherlock blushed as he realised he had not been subtle at all and had voiced his thoughts.

Greg nodded. 'I may have to get one for myself. Nothing more miserable than being cold and wet at a crime scene for hours.'

Mycroft nodded to himself. _Ask and you shall receive._ ‘One of the reasons why I avoid legwork is precisely the ever-changing London weather. To stay on the subjects of weather and practicality, Sherlock that’s for you,’ Mycroft said giving him yet another box. ‘And John, I think you will appreciate this’, he added as he gave the present.

‘Brother dear, presents… with a ribbon around both of them. Mh, must be Anthea’s handiwork. Thank her from me, would you?’ A reproachful look from John told him to amend his statement. ‘Although she wouldn’t have looked for these had you not asked her, I suppose. Thank you, these gloves will be very practical indeed - _provided I am not too forgetful about the temperature and just leave them home_.’

John rolled his eyes with a smile. 'What he means is _thank you_ for the thoughtful gift. You know you have trouble finding gloves that fit you, are flexible enough to allow you to handle your phone and evidence easily, and will let you text easily without taking them off. These look like they'll fit you perfectly and they're nicely lined too.'

Taking one of the gloves Rosie tried it on, the glove coming almost to her elbow. Laughing she waved at Sherlock. 'Hi Papa!'

John smiled at her. 'Silly little girl.' Opening his gift he smiled. 'Lovely notebook. Thank you, Mycroft. Much better than the ratty old one that Sherlock's been threatening to throw away.'

Sherlock waved back to Rosie, doing his best to give her a smile ( _no frown on Kwismas)._ ‘Why, hello, young lady,’ he saluted. ‘Isn’t it a bit chilly this time of year?’ he asked as he put the other glove on his hand. ‘They do fit me quite well, I admit as much,’ he reluctantly told Mycroft. ‘I have absolutely no idea why you keep that stupid old notebook, John. You’ve typed everything it contains on your blog.’

'Sentimental value,' He kissed Sherlock's cheek. 'I'm never getting rid of it. It's got everything from out very first case in it. And notes on Baskerville. And lots of other memories. Every rip, smudge, and stain is a memory of something we did.'

Rosie smiled enjoying the soft wool lining of the glove. 'Papa, it soft.'

John laughed. 'Better be careful or she'll steal them from you.'

‘Rosie, darling. They’re too large for you. Papa will find you soft gloves like his in your size. ‘Sentiment. Why didn’t I see that?’ he asked somewhat befuddled.

'Because even you miss the obvious sometimes, love.' John chuckled kissing his cheek.

'Gwoves jus wike Papas. Same.' Rosie insisted with a firm nod.

John smiled scooping her up and kissing her cheek. 'I'm sure Papa will make sure your gloves are exactly like his and are very soft inside.'

‘I am hardly one to be demonstrative, so without further ado, Gregory, please accept this for our first Christmas together,’ Mycroft said in a stilted manner.

_Embarrassed? Mycroft? Well, that was certainly rare._

Greg opened the box whistling at the gleaming black phone inside. 'A new phone. Good timing. My old one's on the fritz after I dropped it one too many times. I'm going to take a guess this one's secure so we can keep in touch easier when you're away. Perfect. You'll just have to have Anthea teach me how to use it,' he chuckled. 'Or give it to Rosie for five minutes,' John laughed.

_Here’s why he’s embarrassed. Sentiment._

‘Do not doubt the abilities of our daughter, John. I am certain she would not need explaining as to how this works,’ Sherlock chuckled.

‘Please do not undermine yourself, Gregory. It is, as I have been led to understand, straightforward. You are correct in your assumption that this phone will enable us to communicate and keep our conversations secure and private. I fail to see why you would need an explanation for its functioning.’

'Because I'm sure it's got all sorts of bells and whistles and things I don't know how to make work, or make stop working when I'm done with them,' he laughed with a shrug. Handing Mycroft an envelope he smiled. 'It's not much but I put a lot of thought into it...'

‘Let me assure you again that you don’t need an explanation – however if it may calm your mind, I will have Anthea explain it to you.’ He took the envelope Gregory had been handing him, weighted it carefully.

 _Indeed, you have put a lot of thought into doing this_ , Mycroft thought as he opened the envelope with the letter opener that had been of use earlier. He felt his heart beat a little faster as he read the first of many handwritten ‘coupons’ - he had even gone through the trouble of writing the headline ‘Bon pour’ in French. These were romantic examples of what Gregory offered to do for him – cook him a meal at home, watch an undubbed film in its original version, bringing him breakfast in bed, pyjamas in a specifically soft fabric, a fluffy dressing gown and the its matching slippers.  
Mycroft swallowed his pride at his well-guarded emotions and let tears wet his eyes as he embraced Gregory. ‘This is... Thank you, Gregory.’

Greg smiled shoulders relaxing in relief. 'I was a little worried it was a bit too much. What do you get the man who has everything? I decided to give you things I thought you might need and not know you needed them. Things that I hope will make your life a bit easier and more pleasant and help you relax after a hard day.'

Mycroft recovered quickly. ‘You have been very… thorough, and thoughtful,’ he replied, soflty clearing his throat.

Sherlock had turned to John and Rosie, looking for an anchor, needing one. It was particularly unsettling to witness his brother relinquish his boasted pride and control and give way to emotions. He walked towards them without saying a word and took John’s frame in his arms, burying his face in the crook of his neck.

John hummed softly gently running his hand through Sherlock's curls and massaging his scalp. 'I've got you, bumble. It's ok. I think this is good for Mycroft. Shh... It's ok ,now.'

Rosie gently tugged on his sleeve. 'Papa? Up?'

Sherlock embraced John closer so as to include Rosie in his arms.

‘With all that display of emotions which neither of you are comfortable with in public, I think it’s time for our present to our boys,’ Mrs Holmes said, beckoning Mycroft who had visibly collected himself quite well. Sherlock would take a little more time but the regular rise and flow of his shoulders told her that he was getting there.

‘An envelope? Gregory, would you mind giving me the letter opener, please? I swear it’s never been used that frequently over such a short period.’

 _Music has charms to soothe the savage breast_.

‘Oh. Thank you, Mother, Father. That is most... suited to the occasion,’ Mycroft admitted, his voice catching on emotion – _again_. ‘Thank you both,’ he kissed his mother’s cheek and embraced her before repeating the action with his father.

‘Brother dear, I think that you should really come here and properly thank our parents,’ he called. ‘And see what present they have found for their sons.’

John held him close gently running his fingers through Sherlock's curls. 'Well, looks like your ice man of a brother's thawing a bit. Maybe some weekend we can make him watch Frozen,' he teased trying to make Sherlock smile.

'I wuv Fwozen!' Rosie smiled. 'Anna an' Elfa an' Owaf an' Swen an' Kwistoff an' an' an' Marshmalow! Da cold nevuh bovered me anywayz!' she sang hugging Sherlock.

John snorted a laugh giving Rosie a bounce. 'Yeah I think you need to have a Disney movie marathon with Uncle Mycroft sometime. You can teach him the words to all the songs.'

Greg chuckled. 'Well it'll be a nice thing for you and Sherlock to go to some night when John and I are at the pub cat catching a football match on the telly.'

Sherlock sighed, took a strong breath in and pulled himself up. ‘Of course, you love Frozen, darling. Even if I doubt you like it as much as Beauty and the Beast,’ he said, ruffling her hair and placing his hand for a fleeting moment down John’s back in silent thanks fir his support. ‘What is it, then, Mycroft?’

‘Why don’t you see for yourself?’ he handed him the envelope containing the note and the tickets. Sherlock’s face brightened up as he saw the present intended for his brother and himself – both of them were enthralled by music, one playing the violin every time he had a chance to, the other losing himself on the piano when no one was looking. He didn’t need to look to know that Mycroft still played the instrument he had learnt as a child. His eyes sparkled as he read the tickets were for a sold-out violin and piano performance of Mendelssohn’s repertoire. He went to his parents and embraced them tightly. ‘Thank you. It’s...excellent. Thank you. As Mycroft said, it is particularly fitting the situation – and my own inclinations, may I add.’

‘Oh, darling. Your father and I know you are not as cold-hearted as you like to pretend. Music has always been something the both of you relished.’ Mrs Holmes returned her son’s embrace with all her strength.

‘And as Gregory has pointed out, it’ll leave both him and John a nice moment,’ Siger added, chuckling. ‘Maybe bonding over this will be more enjoyable to you than over a beer at the pub?’ he added, handing Gregory a packet.

Greg grinned. 'Well the time or two John's dragged Sherlock along, he hasn't hated it completely.' Lowering his voice in a loud whisper he grinned. 'I think he might have even had... _Fun...!_ '

‘There is no such proof, but John’s company makes everything better.’ John shot him a slightly aggravated look. ‘And good company certainly helps,’ he amended.

‘I look forward to Rosie making my education on Disney movies’ songs. I will, however, teach her the correct pronunciation of the words.’

John smiled kissing Rosie's curls. 'Mycroft, she's not even two yet. No reason to insist on proper pronunciation when she's not quite developmentally able to get every sound perfectly. All Sherlock and I do is carefully repeat a word she says wrong and praise any attempt she makes at correcting it. Sherlock's been very good at praising her pronunciation of words in whatever language of the week they're working on.' He smiled at Sherlock.

‘Danke sehr, Liebling.’

‘I did not mean to imply that Rosie was not – I’m only saying that she could get the words correctly.’

‘Mycroft. You are making it worse,’ shushed his father. ‘John and Sherlock are doing a fantastic job of raising Rosie. When it comes to parenting you are _not_ the most patient man. Or one to give advice.’

‘It’s ever so good to do that, Sherlock. One’s mind is more open and receptive this way. So the language of the week is German. What other languages do you teach her?’

Sherlock preened under his mother’s appreciation. ‘French, _évidemment_ , German as you just heard, Italian, Spanish, Russian and English. I would like to start on Japanese, but I am concerned it might be a little too soon.’

‘I suppose you also watch these Disney movies in the languages you’ve mentioned. Mycroft will _adore_ Rosie singing in whatever language it is you’re watching it in,’ chuckled Siger.

John chuckled. 'Japanese, Mandarin, Cantonese might be a _bit_ much for her. She enjoys all the hacking and spitting in German. Thinks it's great fun. And she's got the dramatics of Italian down. Most nights I come home and everything in the flat's labelled in at least half a dozen languages. You were going to start her on a bit of Gaelic, weren't you? Since she's so fond of Merida. Whenever they watch a Disney movie they do a cultural and language study on the princess. Although we have agreed on not exposing her to the rather more 'Grimm' original version of most of the tales. A bit much.'

‘Quite. I was thinking that Irish could also be interesting for her to – what did you just say? ‘'She’s got the dramatics of Italian down'’?’ Sherlock asked, befuddled. ‘Are you implying she’s a drama queen?’ completely ignoring the jibe John had just made with regards to the more gory, darker aspects of the Grimm fairy tales that had been turned into Disney movies.

John smiled. 'No, love. She's not a drama queen. She just has the rather expressive nature of Italian down. She likes all the gesturing and waving her arms about. She'd like Irish too.'

Greg snickered catching John's pun. 'Have to agree on that one. The originals are very dark and a bit gory and morbid. Especially Cinderella. I've been on crime scenes with less bloodshed.'

Sherlock nodded and was reassured by John’s answer. And then Greg snickered. He looked at them questioningly. ‘Are you two having a little joke?’

John smiled shaking his head. 'Sherlock, love, who collected and published the original fairy tales? Think about their last name and then the nature for the stories. Grimm and grim...'

'Oh. That,' Sherlock dismissed the idea with a wave of his hand. 'You're the one who finds they're not suitable for her. I, on the other hand, happen to think that it would harden her. Her parents do live a life where blood and gore are far from being uncommon,' Sherlock declared as if on stage.

'And all that can come later. She'll learn soon enough that the world can be a hard, cold, cruel place. For now if she thinks it's a place where everyone loves her and is happy most of the time, I'll take it.' John smiled kissing Rosie's cheek. 'When she's a bit older and less likely to want to just grab one of your instruments off the table and go brandishing it about like a sword I'm ok with you showing her dissections and things like that.'

Sherlock scoffed. 'Brandishing my instruments like a sword. You know perfectly well that they are locked. You gave the order, Captain. I will however bow to your superior knowledge of the developing human.' He bowed. 'Especially when it comes to their emotions. Apparently, I am not… qualified for that,' Sherlock replied through gritted teeth.

John stroked his arm lightly. 'Sherlock, love, that's _not_ what I meant. I know you're careful with your instruments. Just like I'm careful with my gun. For now, let's just let her enjoy the more light-hearted Disney version of the stories. When she's a bit older and isn't so entertained by them then you can tell her the other versions and I'm sure she'll enjoy every second of it. Kids love blood, guts, goo, and gore. She was enthralled with your explanation of mummification when we were at the museum.'

Sherlock merely nodded and looked away, frustrated and sad. 'Again, you are the most at ease with understanding developing people. I suppose it makes sense, since you're still in the process of developing yourself,' he said out loud, not even bothering to lower his voice. 

John sighed easily handing Rosie off to Violet. Taking Sherlock's arm with a gentle but firm grip he steered him to the other room.


	13. Tension and relief

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm so sorry for the delay, folks...

'Sherlock, you know I didn't mean it like you took it. You're always careful with Rosie. So very careful. If you weren't, I wouldn't leave her with you all the time and not have a second thought about it. You're doing wonderfully raising her. You were there when I couldn't be. You made her feel safe and let her know everything would be ok. You've done more studying up on child development than I did in med school. You're her father. You're doing everything perfectly.'

Sherlock extracted his arm from John's grip, just as firmly as John had taken it. 'I am careful now. What happens when I make a mistake? When I'm too unfocussed to remember -' he cut himself off, his hands trembling. He put them behind his back. 'You do that now, because you know Mrs Hudson is there if the irresponsible Sherlock Holmes makes an appearance. You know that you can count on a _lot_ of other people when I inevitably fail,' he shouted.

'You won't,' he spoke gently but firmly. 'Because you love Rosie and her safety will _always_ come before your experiments and you're already teaching her proper safety. Just like I am. She knows to never touch my gun unless I'm taking it apart to clean and then she can carefully touch each part. You're teaching her that your equipment is special and can be dangerous if people aren't careful. She's not at all likely to pick up anything that could be dangerous,' he murmured. It was always best to be calm and patient when Sherlock got worked up like this. 'Mrs Hudson has been across town playing Bridge with '"the girls"' on more than one occasion when you've been alone with Rosie. You're not going to fail in a bad way. Here's the thing though, you will fail. Somehow, in some little way. A dozen, a hundred, a million. Just like I already have and will continue to do. Every parent does it. Ask your own in there. What matters is you do your best and love her.'

'That's what you say now. What about when I fail in a bad way? What then? The machine I am will fail, you even acknowledge it!' he spat, disgusted with himself and the word he had had John throw at him so long ago. 'What when I fail her, and you, on an emotional level? I'm not equipped for that, I'm just a heartless, irresponsible, ignorant bastard who likes to play games!' he continued, still shouting. 'When I get in one and don't come home, or when she needs help and to cry her heart out because Jonathan took Bee and I can't react? When I go to Jonathan and snarl vicious comments at him and his parents for making Rosie unhappy?' He looked John not quite in the eye, his voice even, as devoid of emotion as he could make it. 'Will you... severely discipline me for that behaviour? Or demand I leave?' He took a large breath in and continued. 'You are blinded by your sentiment and it clouds your judgement. A sane person would not risk anything happening to their own flesh and blood. I'll fail her. I'll fail you. Again,' he said, his shoulders dropping but sounding... resigned.

'You're getting better,' John continued calmly. 'You're focussed on her and her needs, not your own. If you're out walking the city because you need to think then she and Sultan will sit at the window and wait for you to come home. She's growing up with you and seeing your process. If anyone will understand, it will be her. And I know that if I, or she, sooner than we'd like, would text you and say she needed you that it wouldn't matter if it were a locked room triple murder in Buckingham Palace, you'd drop everything and go to her. There will be times I deal with other children, and parents. And there will be times I stand back and happily let you have at them and tell them everything they think they've so cleverly hidden. I'm not going to discipline you. I'm not going to leave you. We've been through this. My answer is not changing. We'll talk about it. Just like we are now. And it may take some time but we'll come to an agreement. You'll fail, but you'll learn from it and be better and won't make the same mistakes again. Come here little bee...' Gently he wrapped his arms around Sherlock holding him close.

'You did discipline me,' he stated, air quotes evident in this way he spoke. 'And I am _not_ a child,' he huffed petulantly.

'And I was wrong to discipline you,' he nodded firmly. 'I know you're not a child. I'm just giving logic and reason to counter your arguments,' John continued to hold Sherlock close letting him work through things.

‘Logic and reason, certainly. Your efforts are a bit undermined by you calling me 'little bee', Doctor,' Sherlock replied curtly. He reluctantly accepted John's embrace. His mind was racing at the speed of light but he was trapped on the launchpad, crippled by doubt and what ifs scenarios, John's physical proximity had him want to flee as he was reminded of him losing his temper, as he remembered that their relationship had taken a physical turn which brought back reminiscences from his past. He shuddered. He trembled. He closed his eyes. 'You won't -?' he couldn't bring himself to ask John if he would hit him again. If he would, despite his asserting the exact opposite the night before and once more mere moments before, disregard him and use him as he let all the others do - not that he had much choice in the matter. Desperate as he was, high as he was sometimes when it happened, he did not think of anything other than his next fix. Hesitantly he put his shaking hands around John, tentatively returning the embrace. 'I'm sorry,' he whispered. 'I'm so sorry.'

John cupped his cheek. 'Sherlock, love, look at me. I am not leaving. I am not leaving. Rosie is not leaving. I am not taking her. You're her father. Always have been. Now it's just all legal and official. We're not going anywhere. You, me, Rosie, 221B. Just how it's always meant to work out. I'm not going anywhere. We'll be here for you, no matter what. And I called you little bee because I love you. One of those terms of endearment you're learning to like. If you don't like it, then I won't use that one again. Simple,' he kissed the top of his head softly stroking his hair. 'It's ok. I'm not angry. We're not going anywhere.'

Sherlock stood in John's embrace, still trembling slightly but getting his turmoil under control. He'll have to tell - speak to John about - he had no idea how to broach the subject and that terrified him. Even if he had planned on speaking about that at night. He sighed loudly, exhausted as he was by the intensity of the thoughts and feelings that had been coursing through him for the past 20 minutes. 'I'm sorry. I didn't mean to - snap. I don't want to lose you. Ever. I don't like you calling me ''little bee''. And I - a bit less in - public?' he asked in a whisper and dropped his head against John's shoulder.

John smiled with a nod. 'Then how about we call Rosie little bee. You can be Papa Bee and I'll be Daddy Bee. How about I just stick to ''love'' for you. Or ''my brilliant detective''. And less in public. Just when we're alone or I can't help it. See, things are much better when we talk them out. I know you were worried I'd leave and take Rosie. I understand. It's not going to happen. Not ever. You are stuck with the two of us. I can't imagine raising Rosie alone. And she would throw the world's most epic tantrum if we left. She loves you, Sherlock.'

Sherlock nodded against John's shoulder. 'Calling me ''love'' is fine. In public is... Fine just - Not as often? Of course I'm not worried you'd leave and take Rosie! I'm terrified!' he exclaimed. 'I can't imagine living without you and Rosie. I love you, John. The both of you. I'd do anything for either of you, you do know that, don't you?' he asked shakily.

'Of course I know that, love,' he stroked his hair gently. 'We're not leaving because we know we belong with you. The three, well four if you count Sultan, of us against the rest of the world. Why do you think I came to you when I couldn't cope raising Rosie alone anymore? I knew she would be safe and happy with you while I took care of things and got myself put back together. Best decision I ever made. She adores you. How could I even think of taking her away from her Papa?'

'I've - I've not thought about it that way,' he admitted. 'I agree with you. This was one of your best decisions. It may be selfish to say so but... And thank you. For getting put back together. I would have helped you of course I would have but... I wouldn't have been strong enough for the both of us. John? Kiss me?' Sherlock asked timidly.

Chuckling softly he cupped his cheek kissing him sweetly. 'I love you Papa Bee,' he murmured softly. 'Just like the first time I needed to figure out how to put myself back together, I knew that the best place to do that was with you. I needed you. Rosie needed you. She was so excited to visit you again. I told her we were going to stay, at least for a while and she was over the moon. There's never going to be a time I don't need you, that Rosie won't need you. And I know for damn sure that any time Rosie might need you, you would do _anything_ to get to her and help her and comfort her. Chances are, you won't have to do any deductions on rude children. She'll do them herself,' he teased gently trying to get a laugh out of Sherlock.

Sherlock nodded and chuckled lightly. 'I will teach her that to the best of my abilities, you know that, of course. You've never told me... How you came to the decision to move back in with me? Especially as you had Rosie. I had marked it as wishful thinking and hopeless,' he admitted. 'But I hadn't stopped hoping.’

John sighed holding him close. 'I was a wreck. Drinking far too much. Wasn't working. I was seeing, and hearing, Mary all the time. Believe it or not, it was her 'nagging' that pushed me to it. Was always there telling me what to do, how to do it, what a screw up I was, that I'd let her die, that I was failing at being a parent to Rosie. Figured if she was with you at least someone'd be watching her. I hoped that ''Mary'' wouldn't follow us. And thankfully, she didn't. I knew you'd do everything to help Rosie and take care of her while I worked on myself. I couldn't trust anyone else with her for more than a few hours at a time. Not even Molly, not even Mrs Hudson. Just you.'

'Oh. I - I'm so sorry it was so... Difficult... Can't imagine what it was like - with I assume feelings making it all... Worse. I can't understand your trust in me at **that** time.'

John shrugged. 'I just knew it was the right thing to do. Figured maybe it would give you some motivation to get and keep yourself together. Figured if something happened to me then at least she'd have you and you'd do anything for her, just like you always did for me.'

'"Some motivation?"' John, I'm extremely glad you did but for God's sake, Rosie is not... A means to an end. Yes, that's me saying it. It's also me restraining myself to slap you because how could you even **think** ''Oh, if anything happens to me, it'll be okay for Rosie, Sherlock will look after her.'' You know exactly how badly I coped with grief and guilt. I would have done anything for her, yes. But I would have had to grieve, mourn, be angry at myself and the world, hate you for leaving, miss you, love you, realise I could never even see you or hear your voice or even speak with you. Yes, I would have done anything for Rosie. And I still will. I'm not certain that at that time I wouldn't have... Relapsed. Again,' Sherlock admitted in defeat.

'And I knew she'd keep you from relapsing and you'd be too busy with her to have time to relapse because you'd take everything to do with her very seriously. I wasn't thinking right. All I could think was "Get Rosie to Sherlock and everything will be ok." I kept telling her that. And myself. I hoped that being back with you would help me put myself back together again. I wasn't _planning_ on anything. Not anything clear. And I was also dealing with what I'd done to you. I'm still working on that one...' he sighed. 'The fact you can and have forgiven me... Amazing.'

Even though he was the one who had needed his partner's warm embrace, Sherlock held John closer, pressed their bodies together, kissed the top of John's head. 'Sh, John. I hope you weren't. I didn't mean to imply you were. I'm really glad you did get Rosie to me - it ultimately gave me you.' He rubbed circles on John's back, and he felt tension rising in his muscles. Was it due to the strain of emotions or the bad weather? Though not a betting man, Sherlock's money was on the former. 'Forgiven? There was **nothing** to forgive. I moved on. I can do it, John my dear. So can you.'

'Oh, there was a lot to forgive and for some reason you keep doing it. And we'll work on moving on together. I forgave you, you forgave me. Guess we just have to work on forgiving ourselves and helping each other do that. I knew I couldn't keep away, keep Rosie away from you one minute longer. I just packed up a few things, hailed a cab, and never looked back.'

Sherlock lifted John's face towards his. 'Not for “some reason”. You know the reason. Love. It's always love. John Watson, you keep me right. I am rather inclined to believe that all that's left for us to do won't be a walk in the park. As I said earlier, John, you make everything better. Easier. I am terribly happy you did not second-guess your decision to come home. It is your home. 221b. Always has been. '

'Damn right,' he nodded kissing him gently and leaning into him. 'You make everything easier and better too, you know. Not ever going to second guess or regret my decision. I know it was best for me and best for Rosie. No place has felt more like home than with you, and now Rosie and Sultan, at Baker Street. I know it's not going to be easy but at least we'll have each other. And quite a few other people who I know will be there to help us when, not if, when, we need it. Just like now,' he smiled slightly looking in the other room to see Greg playing with Rosie.

Sherlock was silent, observing John’s face and followed his gaze. Greg was making silly faces at her to make her laugh – which seemed to be working.

‘John, I – Can we stay a little longer in this room? It does seem that Rosie is... well taken care of. And, I have to... things to tell you. I’m aware it might... put a black stain on an otherwise bright day but I... I feel ready. Can we, before I opt-out?’ he asked again, his voice having taken a serious edge.

John smiled. 'Greg's making an idiot out of himself for Rosie's sake and your brother's gone all soft around the eyes watching them. Yeah, I'd think it might even be a good idea for us to give them a few minutes. We can talk about anything you want to talk about whenever you want to talk about it. Within reason. When it's the middle of the night and I'm sound asleep after a long shift or we've been running across the city is probably not the time,' he teased gently. Squeezing his hand he smiled at him. 'Talk away, love.'

‘The subject is delicate. I believe I should… You know. Like a plaster.’ He disentangled himself from John. ‘Maybe you should sit,’ he suggested, as he started pacing the room. ‘As you know, before I met you I had dealings with what one might call a very bad crowd. That’s the reason I dropped out of university. I was high. Found it didn’t hold my interest anymore. And my fellow students... You know me around people. I wasn’t liked – you’ve met Sebastian, he was one of the nicest – and 5 years surrounded by idiots day in day out was more than I could stand. I tried, I persisted – and failed. I went to find an acquaintance I made a few weeks before. He had bluntly told me that if I wanted out, he would provide me with chemicals of the best quality. Snow, he called it. I was not yet versed in street speech but I soon remedied to it. The high, the release it gave me was bliss. My thoughts were tamed, no longer a whirlwind or a storm. I came back for more. He quickly taught me how to make it. He and I had a – relationship, of sorts, for a time. He made sure that I was hooked on snow before he left. And that there weren’t any supplies left. I could not think. I could not make my own. He had introduced me to two new worlds – drugs. And a more… intimate one. After two days without taking anything, I was desperate. I went to – a place where I knew I could find some. I did not have money. I could only access my funds when I graduated. Since I did not...’ he stopped for a beat, caught his breath and started again, though less lightning-paced than when he had started. ‘I couldn’t think of a way to pay for it that wasn’t illegal. The person I had dealings with at the time convinced me that the only way and the safest was to let him have me, but that he’d accept a – an oral performance as ways of payment. That was the common way. It wasn’t frowned upon. I always came back. Until they thought I was too gone to care for the quality of the product they gave me – I changed dealers. It was always the same pattern, I never had any money to pay the drugs with. The oral performance quickly became – something else. Dirty, hard, revolting – the only two positive things I saw in it at the time were that it was quick and it got me the drugs I needed. No matter how much I loathed it, I continued coming back. On more than a few – occasions – I was taken into a dirty room with mattresses on the floor – and paid after I put the drugs into my system. I don’t remember much apart from flashes. It always was rough, violent even and I’m fairly certain it lasted longer than it did when in a dark alley. The bruises have faded and disappeared but not – not the scars. Or my – fear of strangulation. I can er, thank them in a way. Because I always came back, I suppose they considered me a valued customer and apparently made sure I was sold ‘'the good stuff'’ and that I wouldn’t risk OD’ing too soon. My… brother eventually found out and forced me into rehab but nothing could come out of it – nothing permanent, anyway – since I didn’t go voluntarily. I still could not access my funds – and my family had an excellent reason for me not to access it. They knew I would inject or smoke it all away and that my fate was – dreary. I came back to the drugs nonetheless. I managed to stay clean for almost a month once out of rehab. And the cycle started again. Drugs – rehab, drugs – rehab. After the third time, my brother kept a wary eye on me. Left a few... investigation papers laying around. He knew I’d get to try and see. Attraction in puzzle. I was still clean. I showed up at a crime scene where Gregory was, shot deductions and solved it fast enough to get Scotland Yard interested in me. They assumed I was the murderer. Mycroft intervened. Greg was the officer who had been the most impressed by my deductions – and the only one to suspect that a 29 year old junkie – he also was the only one to remark that I was out of rehab and had been doing heavy drugs for years – could not have had the strength to commit such a gruesome murder. Mycroft made it so that I would continue dealing with Scotland Yard under the guidance of Greg who had only recently been made Detective Inspector and on the express condition that I stay clean. I almost relapsed once – Mycroft caught me on time, and decided it was no longer good for me to live on Montague Street. Greg had no idea how close I had been. Had he known, I wouldn’t have been granted access to anything. Mycroft found where Mrs Hudson lived and owned property and arranged that I rent her flat on Baker Street. I needed a flatmate,’ Sherlock stopped speaking and found himself extremely interested in the floorboards pattern, as if he’d never seen them.

John moved slowly and carefully making sure that Sherlock saw and heard him moving. 'Can I touch you? Just going to take your hand, love, that's all. Just your hand,' he spoke softly keeping his voice calm even though it wavered a little bit. 'Thank you for telling me. And if I ever do anything that's remotely similar to something that happened, try and let me know. I'll be careful. I promise. We'll work our way through this slowly and carefully.' Squeezing his hand he smiled. 'I'm proud of you. Very. For everything you've overcome and how far you've come. So proud of you.'

‘You’re not… mad? Disgusted?’ Sherlock asked, looking utterly flabbergasted as his eyes tentatively met John’s. ‘I thought – I will. I doubt it would provoke any… Our relationship is quite different after all. I maintain what I told you – the more exposure to, er, that will be – beneficial to me, and us. I wouldn’t have got very far if it weren’t for you, John,’ he replied after a beat, squeezing John’s hand in turn.

John gave his hand a bit firmer squeeze running his thumb over Sherlock's knuckles and pressing a gentle kiss on his cheek. 'I love you. All of you. The messy parts, the messed up parts, the perfect parts, the broken parts. I love all of you, Sherlock. None of that's going to change. I don't like what you did but knowing you, I can understand it. Just wish I'd come along sooner so I could have kept all that bad stuff from happening to you. We're going to get through this. Together. Like we handle everything.'

Sherlock’s gaze lowered once more, ashamed at his past behaviour – even if the past _is_ in the past, it isn’t less difficult to deal with – and humbled by John’s constant presence and reassuring words and actions. ‘Thank you, John. I’m sorry for telling you all this but I – I needed to. Thank you,’ he placed a gentle kiss of his own on John’s cheek.

'The past is in the past...' he smiled softly at him. 'Don't be sorry for telling me, love. I'm glad you told me. I'm glad I know so I know everything. There's things that've happened to me that I'll tell you about sometime. Soon. I promise. And it's got nothing to do with you, love. Nothing. It's just got everything to do with me. Things I've not talked about or dealt with for years. Decades. Things I've barely even scratched the surface of in therapy.'

Sherlock looked at him inquisitively for a split second. _John_ wants _to tell me. It would be… more than a bit not good to try and deduce it out._ ‘John, I – thank you. I am... yes, I am honoured you’d want to share these things with me. I want you to know that if you don’t… feel ready, you oughtn’t force yourself.’

'Forcing doesn't work. Ask Ella,' he snorted with a half-smile. 'She figured out real fast that was not going to work. I promise I'll tell you. A bit at a time and probably at random. Seems to be how it works. And if you can deduce some of it, maybe help me figure it all out, then I don't mind. I know you'll know when not to tell me things.'

Sherlock smiled. ‘I’d rather it all came from you,’ he said earnestly.

'I would too,' he smiled leaning into Sherlock for a moment. 'Feeling better now, love? I'm sure you'll sleep well tonight after getting all that out in the open and dealt with.'

‘Yes, I do. Your presence helped me, as it always does. I – It hasn’t bothered my sleep. Not when you’re with me,’ he amended.

John laughed softly. 'Well at least having Rosie around to insist that you go to bed at a decent hour is helping you get a bit more sleep than you used to.'

‘Yes. And now that her father sleeps in my bed, I actually want to go to sleep. Well. I want to join him, at any rate,’ he smirked.

'Sherlock Holmes are you _flirting_ with me?!' John grinned up at him. 'And you can have me in your bed any time you want. Just say the word. Because bed's good for a lot more than just sleeping.'

‘I do have an excellent teacher. I don’t see why it would be so… strange. It did help… ease the tension, didn’t it? Not that I didn’t mean it. Of course I did. Do.’

Laughing softly John reached up to kiss him gently. 'I get it, love. I do. Very sweet of you to say so. And no, you don't need to seduce me but it's charming and endearing that you're flirting with me. Very charming. Makes me love you just a bit more.'

‘Sweet of me to want you in my bed? I don’t think that’s the right adjective there, my dear,’ Sherlock said in John’s ear, stepping in closer, his voice casually dropping a few tones.

'Bastard...' he husked with a wicked grin, eyes dark. 'Not nice to tease me like that at a time like this... Oh the things I'm going to do to you later tonight when we're alone... You somehow manage to go from "sweet and endearing" to "I would give anything to get you alone and horizontal in five seconds flat"...'

Sherlock bent over and kissed him. ‘You wouldn’t have me any other way, my dear. Who talked about teasing, anyway? I am perfectly serious and certainly _will_ hold you to your word, there,’ he said, placing possessive hands over John’s hips. He locked his own darkened eyes with John’s. ‘I’m hungry,’ he stated before kissing John with passion.

John blinked with a soft chuckle. Sometimes Sherlock's abrupt turns and changes in mood and logic still baffled and surprised him but he loved every second of the unpredictability. 'Bloody hell... You are a menace...' nipping at his lip he kissed him eagerly. Maybe taking Rosie and Sultan out to play in the snow would help cool them both off. At least long enough to get through the rest of the day. Maybe. It had been a long time since he'd felt like this. It was like being 15 and in love for the first time again.

‘One you’d like to deal with, from the way you’re reacting,’ Sherlock answered. ‘Although probably not “at a time like this”,’ he continued, recalling what John had said moments before. ‘Why is it still _morning_? I want it to be time for – us,’ he whispered, trailing a hand under John’s soft jumper and tracing a line of wet kisses down his neck.

John whined faintly. 'Well, there's always Rosie's afternoon nap... Sultan will probably crash and nap too. I'm sure Mycroft and Greg will be doing something. Your brother will be planning world domination and Greg will be catching up on the football scores. And I'm sure your mum will be busy putting the finishing touches on dinner... I know it's still a long time to wait but it's the best we've got...'

Sighing, Sherlock rested his head against John’s chest, listening to his fast beating heart. ‘Quite a while away. You are right, I’m certain everyone will be busy doing “something or other”,’ he said, face buried in John’s jumper, hand tracing small circles on John’s skin, evidently getting his sudden desire under control. ‘Being patient has never been my strong suit... Waiting when there’s something to look forward to, however… I can work with that. I will,’ he said more firmly. ‘I don’t _want to_ but I will.’

'Welcome to the joys of being a parent. Delayed gratification. And at least with both of us parenting we can trade off whenever we need to and tackle things together head on to make it easier. If nothing else, I'm sure your parents will be more than happy to keep an eye on Rosie for at least a few minutes so we can grab a little time alone.' Nuzzling Sherlock's curls he sighed deeply. 'I love you.'

‘I know,’ Sherlock replied, his voice husky with desire and sentiment. ‘I’m positive we’ll need more than a few minutes alone, but I’ll take anything I can get. Should we... go back, then?’ he asked in a sigh.

'I know,' he smiled pressing a kiss to Sherlock's curls. 'I know. Hopefully we'll get at least an hour while she's napping. And I think we can give it a few more minutes. Look at your brother watching Greg with Rosie. I've never seen him look like that before.'

‘He’s _never_ looked like that before. If I didn’t know better, I’d think he was taken with the – nope, I’m not even going to voice this,’ he said, straightening himself up. He looked up and down John. ‘Mh. You probably are correct in waiting a little bit more before going back,’ he remarked as he walked towards a mirror to put his hair into a less – a more appropriate, not so dishevelled hairstyle.

'I think your brother might be catching baby fever...' he snickered leaning against the wall and watching Sherlock primp a bit while trying to make it look like he wasn't watching Mycroft.

‘Shh, John. Don’t. I do know that Mother will _not_ let him go away with that. If anyone can see... _that_ , Mother certainly has already been making plans. I think you should’ he waved towards John’s body, ‘instead of, you know. I wonder if she and father have ever expected that to happen when both their sons announced they would not –‘ he cut himself short when he realised he had been thinking out loud. John might consider his voicing that he had not wanted a family a bit not good. Even if he had not met John at the time and was not even considering having a relationship.

Sliding his arm around Sherlock's lean waist John pressed his cheek against his back with a chuckle. 'Stop overthinking. If you can. Knowing your mum I'm sure she figured it'd happen sooner or later. I was firmly of the opinion I did not want kids, ever. But now that I, _we_ , have Rosie, I wouldn't give her up for anything in the world. Greg's fond of kids. Think he's of the "if it happens, it happens" camp. Never thought your brother'd be so fond of her. Or even remotely considering that he might be a decent parent.'

‘I’ll try not to overthink, Captain, Sir,’ Sherlock said in mock military obedience. ‘I would not give her up either. Or you. God, why even _say_ that? It actually physically _hurts_ to say that,’ he said in all seriousness. ‘Mycroft? A decent parent?’ Sherlock scoffed. ‘Please. He’s not even a decent _brother_. The thought of Mycroft – overbearing, overprotective and intrusive brother… Nothing in his behaviour has ever even _slightly_ hinted at – _that_.’

John chuckled. 'He's making faces at Rosie whenever she looks at him and Greg's not looking. And you don't have to give us up. Either of us. Ever. Promise you that, love. And who knows your brother may surprise everyone including himself one of these days.'

‘God, John. Please. Not another word. I’m still – let’s do you,’ he said as he turned around. ‘Since you apparently can’t be bothered to do it yourself,’ he commented as he put his hands in John’s hair to style them in a more decent way. The advantage of his jumper was that it didn’t need to be straightened. John’s face still looked thoroughly kissed and even his loose fitted jeans showed evidence of his not-so-innocent-thoughts.

'You playing with my hair's not helping,' he teased kissing the inside of his wrist gently. 'A few more minutes and I'll be decent. And not all of us are as obsessed with our hair as you are. You know I love your curls.'

'I am not ''playing'' with your hair,' Sherlock huffed. 'And I am not _obsessed_ with mine, dear. I know what style means and I apply it. To great effect, it would seem,' he replied with a smirk.

'Mm well whatever you're doing it's nice,' John smiled nipping the inside of Sherlock's wrist gently. 'And you are a bit... focussed... on how your hair looks. You apply "style" very well, love. Always have, always will, I'm sure.' He kissed him lightly. 'Cute when you huff like that.'

‘I have two things to say to you, John Watson. A – I am _not_ cute. B – how do you want me to act... decently when you’re displaying both tenderness and desire?

'I have two things to say to you, Sherlock Holmes,' he laughed softly kissing him. 'A – You are cute. Very cute. Especially when you think you're being especially _not_  CUTE. B – And you're just going to have to learn because it's gonna be like that a lot.'

Sherlock rolled his eyes. ‘I assumed,’ he retorted half-heartedly before kissing John back with passion and biting his neck. ‘Two can play that game,’ he growled.

'Beast,' he laughed softly slipping his fingers in Sherlock's belt loops and tugging him closer. 'You're a very fast learner. Love it. Mm the plans I have for you later...'

‘You’ve no idea,’ he commented. ‘Really looking forward to see you bring them to – completion,’ he all but purred the word in John’s ear, his hands roaming on John’s back to his backside, bringing their pelvises together.

'You are a bloody menace,' John growled lowly as he slowly rolled his hips against Sherlock's slowly as he kissed and nipped along his neck. 'Got a feeling I'm going to be taking a few days off work when we get back. I'm sure Mrs Hudson will be more than happy to watch Rosie.'

‘Mh, you – ah – did mention it, yes. No idea why,’ he groaned softly at the friction _Slow but not teasing, dead serious. Deliberate. ‘_ John,’ he said in a gravelly voice. ‘A few days, hm?’ he asked in a whisper. ‘Sounds – very interesting. Numerous amounts of possibilities. Titillates the – mind,’ he added, his voice low before he claimed John’s mouth once again and locked their eyes together, his intent clear as his heated, hungry gaze went down John’s body.

'At least a couple days... Holidays you know. Rosie's first Christmas and all that. Probably end up seeing Harry, maybe Clara too. That leaves us lots of time for other things. Many, many possibilities,' he smirked nipping Sherlock's lip. 'Anything and everything we want.'

‘You,’ Sherlock replied. ‘I want to explore – you. I want to kiss, to taste every inch of you. I want to touch you in such a way that – Oh, you’ll like that, I’m sure. It’ll warrant _more_ than a couple of days. Probably until New Year, if my calculations are correct,’ Sherlock said trying to sound unconcerned by the situation – and visibly failing if his hungry gaze as he looked, down on his knees, at John was anything to go by.

John laughed softly sliding his hands over Sherlock's chest slowly. 'Mm all the way until New Year's. And then we'll have to properly celebrate the start of a new year together, won't we. So obviously I won't be going back in the next day. So probably not until the next week. And yes, I'm going to touch and taste every bit of you too. Never going to get enough.'

‘You’ve messed up my hair,’ Sherlock pouted. ‘There will be retaliations. Now and all the way until New Year.’

John smirked running his hand through Sherlock's hair and tangling his hand in it. 'Mm... Yeah, I did, didn't I? Can't help that your hair's incredibly soft and you're down there on your knees...'

‘Yes, I am,’ Sherlock panted – his hair was so sensitive and the situation so _scorchingly hot_ he couldn’t do anything but. He brought his face closer to John’s groin. ‘Did say _retaliations_ , didn’t I?’ he wondered. _Do I really want to go through with that?_

'Bloody menace you are...' John panted eyes dark as he gazed down at Sherlock. 'Get you going and there's no turning you off. Not that I want to. Not by any stretch of the imagination. Not at all. I like this side of you. Incredibly sexy. Happen to like the sight of you on your knees.' Tugging just a bit on Sherlock's curls he smirked. 'Although I think we really should wait. The last thing we want is for Rosie to get worried and come looking for us. And I'd rather not explain this...'

Sherlock sighed. Loudly. He huffed and was very put upon as he got up swiftly to his feet. ‘Retaliations it is, then,’ his voice still husky before turning toward the mirror to arrange his hair. ‘Doubt you’ll see me on my knees much, _Captain,_ ’ he muttered.

'Oh, but I think I will if you know what's good for you, soldier,' he smirked giving his arse a firm squeeze.

Sherlock went a bright shade of red. John knew. How did John know? When – How did he give it away? 

            Rosie barrelled into the room chasing Sultan. 'Daddy! Papa! We go play snow? PUH-LEEEEEEEZE!!!!!!!'

‘Darling,’ he said though his throat was constricted it sounded more like a juxtaposition of consonants, ‘I didn’t think you’d escape your uncles’ arms. Rather came in like a wrecking ball, didn’t you?’ he asked not as nonchalantly as he hoped. John had thrown him off-balance. Blessedly, Rosie was too young to fathom what could have happened between them.

Rosie blinked innocently up at him with a smile. 'You pwomised we pway in snow adain,' John laughed softly picking her up. 'I'm going to guess someone got a case of the wiggles and slipped away from Uncle Greg, didn't you?' Tapping her nose he smiled at her laugh. 'I'm sure Sultan will love playing in the snow with you. You go get your coat and boots. Papa and I will be right there. Promise.' Setting her down he steered her in the right direction with a gentle pat on the backside. Smiling at Sherlock he kissed his cheek. 'Had a feeling that was going to happen.'

‘I suppose it was to be expected,’ Sherlock sighed, slowly dipping his head down an inch. ‘John, ho – Nevermind,’ he grumbled. ‘We’ll talk about this later, I imagine.’

Smiling softly John stole a kiss. 'It'll take her a few minutes to get her coat and boots and then to get them on. You know she likes to do as much herself as she can. We've got a little bit. What is it, love?' Stroking his cheek he laughed. 'Expect the unexpected.'

Sherlock smiled despite his frustration, but he knew he was not hiding it well. He waved to dismiss what he'd said. 'It's not important. Not right now, at least. I'm only... Curious, that's all. You know me.'

John smiled chuckling softly. 'I know. And I know how you hate not to have an answer to something. Which is why we should take advantage of the delay while Rosie insists she gets her coat, mittens, and boots on by herself. Of course she'll put her mittens on first and then try to zip her coat and get her boots on because that's just how she does it. You know I'm always going to make time to answer your questions and help you figure out stuff. Always.'

Sherlock nodded. ‘I know. Thank you.’ He took a sharp breath in. ‘How did you, er, know I had er, you know. That I was. That I found, er,’ he stuttered and closed his eyes, ashamed of his own awkwardness. ‘HowdidyouknowthatIfoundthemilitaryarousing?’ he asked.

John chuckled softly. 'I'm not laughing at you, love. I'm just a bit amused, that's all. And the way your knees went weak and the way you looked at me when I rattled off name and rank to that kid at Baskerville, well, it didn't take a genius for me to figure things out. It was a bit of a lightbulb moment for me.'

Sherlock’s mouth was agape. ‘But – back then, you – ?’ He looked closely at John, eyes flickering over his face, his clothes, his stance – _Why is he standing straighter?_ as he tried to find a clue, anything that would show _– Ah. There. He’s not only standing straighter, he’s standing as a Captain. His smirk shows his appreciation of the... effect it has on me. ‘_ Observed, then,’ he stated in a tone that let no room for supposition as to how ashamed and remorseful he was for his words and his behaviour after this... episode of their shared lives and the abruptness with which it ended. The irony of it all! He tried a smiled which probably looked awkward – as he felt in this very instant. _Set your mind back onto the present._ He straightened his own posture and looked at John. ‘Connections were made in your brain at that moment. Conductor of light, I called you later on. I don’t suppose you’d need any clue to know where my energy went,’ he smirked.

John snickered pulling him close into a comforting embrace. 'I was trying very hard not to think about where your energy was going. I wasn't taking those long walks by myself for the hell of it. I didn't trust myself around you. Being there, brought back a lot of memories. Some good. Some not so good. Between everything else going on and being on the base and getting drugged and the thing between us... I was a right mess. I wasn't very nice to you either. And then...' He took a shaky breath voice thick with tears he was trying to hold back. 'I never forgave myself for being so angry with you and then you... Well, I thought you...' He shrugged slightly. Kissing him gently he cupped his cheek. 'No more looking back, beating ourselves up for past mistakes. I know I'm one to talk but I'm going to try and do better. And I know you will too. And I know we'll help each other do better, too. We've got a lot more good things ahead of us than we do bad things behind us. I'm sure of that. And there's one, well two, big ones out there bossing Mycroft around as he tries to put her scarf on just right. Who'd have thought, your brother, the ice man, the very government allowing himself to be bossed around by a toddler,' he chuckled softly. 'Reminds me a bit of your mum the way she bosses him about and makes him do exactly what she wants. Those two'll be quite the force to reckon with.'

‘I thought at first that taking this case out of London might be an excellent opportunity to let you know how I felt, when you pulled rank I was convinced it was, but then you and I – Oh, I don’t need to remind you everything that happened during that particular case, do I? I know I haven’t properly apologised for locking you in the lab. I also know you’ve forgiven me. Let me only say this: more than solving the case, I wanted you safe. That’s the reason why it had to be done _there_. I could not risk losing you in a bleak, dark and dangerous forest so very near a minefield. You cannot begin to imagine how much I regret the deal I made with Mycroft for that. The negotiations. When he told me what the terms would be I elected not to let you know how I really felt,’ he confessed, swallowing hard. ‘I knew what the outcome would likely be. I knew you’d suffer – too much. If I didn’t tell you anything, you’d – well, that’s ancient history. I will not leave you in the dark about anything I do. I _will_ do better. I will _be_ better, John. _You_ make me want to be a better man,’ he stated, locking his eyes on John’s. Out the corner of his eye, he saw Greg give Mycroft Rosie’s mittens and Rosie cross her arms over her chest. ‘Our delightful daughter is about to throw a small tantrum, it seems. Can they handle her, or do you think that’s our cue, dear?’

John smiled. 'Greg's a bloody good negotiator and your brother handles short tempered politicians with access to nuclear weapons on a regular basis. It'll be good practice for them. We'll see how they handle it and get involved if things really go sideways.' Keeping Sherlock close he nuzzled his cheek gently. 'Always keeping me safe. Which is sometimes difficult when I'm trying to keep you safe. What matters now is we move forward. Together. We learn from our mistakes and do better. I don't need or particularly want to know what deal you and Mycroft worked out. It's Christmas and I've promised to be nice.'

‘No, I doubt we need to talk about that, do we? Suffice it to say that it was hell, but worth it, in the end,’ he said thoughtfully. ‘Always keeping the other safe. Just the two of us against the rest of the world.’ Sherlock turned to directly observe the scene taking place in the corridor instead of watching it in a mirror. Rosie was shaking her head and a severe pout showed it was a very serious affair. Her legs were agitated even as Greg tried to put her boots and she couldn’t keep her arms still as Mycroft zipped it up. She seemed to be angling her body towards the door, ready or not to face the cold. Clearly, the problem was that she was still inside and not yet playing.

John chuckled. 'Wonder how long it'll take before Mycroft will try and bribe her instead of trying to reason with her. Greg's trying the distraction method. Wonder how long it'll take your brother to realize that you can't reason or negotiate with a toddler.' Leaning into Sherlock he smiled softly. 'She's very lucky to have you for her Papa. Look at what she's gained. Your parents adore her and Mycroft's fonder of her than he'd like to admit.'

‘He did say that he never was good with ‘'them'’. I think it will take him ages – at least it would if he were on his own,’ Sherlock conceded. ‘Greg will tell him soon, I think. I know that you’ll say it’s a bit not good but I can’t help but feeling amused at seeing my brother struggling,’ he continued in a mocking tone. ‘My parents adore you. She’s yours. Ergo they adore her. Obvious. I’m really happy that they do,’ pride laced his every word. ‘She’s mine, too. And one of these days, you’ll be mine, as well,’ he whispered.

John smiled. 'I think it's good for Mycroft to realize that he can't control everything and everyone all the time. Especially when the person involved isn't even in school yet.' Nodding he smiled 'I know Mycroft knows how Greg feels. Probably just take them a bit of time to sort everything out. Hopefully not as long as it took us.' Kissing his cheek he nodded. 'I know they love her because she's mine and they love me because I love you, but it's good to see them love her because she's her. I'm already yours, love. Completely. Have been since we stood in the front hallway giggling.'

'And it was not even a crime scene,' Sherlock intoned in an aborted giggle of his own.  'Anything that shows Mycroft is not omnipotent is good. He's never understood no matter how often I told him so. I suppose that he, too, will have to learn this through experience. Just like any other human being,' he chuckled.

John smiled gently elbowing Sherlock in the ribs. 'He's coming along. It'll take a long time for him to thaw. Good thing he's got Greg to help him. I've never seen your brother so willing to let his defences down as when he's around Rosie. Don't know why but I'm glad of it. Fell in love with you right then and there. The way you lit up and smiled at me. It was all over. Not that I completely realized it but looking back on it all, I know that's when it was.'

‘Oh, I wouldn’t say that it was all over. I’d say it was only the beginning,’ Sherlock turned towards John wearing an enormous smile on his face.

'You beautiful thing, you...' John murmured softly reaching up to kiss him slowly. 'Love that smile. The one you give only a few people. Me, Rosie, Mrs Hudson. Love making you smile.'

‘You’re doing an excellent job at it,’ he confirmed, planting a resounding kiss on John's forehead . ‘Now! Rosie Watson,’ he exclaimed as he walked to the corridor. ‘I’ll race you outside as soon as you’re ready putting your cold-repellent clothing!’ he challenged her.

Eyes lighting up she wobbled slightly trying to get one boot on as she tugged her mittens in place. John smiled gently steadying her. 'I've got you sweetheart. And I bet Papa will let you win the race. You're almost ready and he doesn't even have his coat on. There's no way you won't beat him.'

Mycroft had a slightly puzzled look on his face. ‘How is that supposed to encourage her? It seems to me that John is only encouraging her to be lazy,’ he commented while Sherlock was putting his scarf on, deliberately doing it slowly – and wrong. He looked at both ends of his scarf, a confounded look on his face as he realised he had not tied it in a loop. ‘It’s a good thing I don’t wear ties,’ he commented as he took it off and started again.

Rosie watched him with a giggle. 'No Papa, like dis!' she waved him over tongue poking out at the corner of her mouth as she concentrated on carefully winding and looping the scarf. Greg smiled. 'Not really. He's just making sure she doesn't fall over while she finishes trying to get herself ready. He's letting her do things for herself even if it takes much longer. And now it's giving her a chance to help Sherlock.'

‘Oh, like _this_ , you mean? Silly old me. Of course. Of course, you’re right. Thank you, Rosie,’ Sherlock kissed her head. ‘Now, where have I put my coat? Scotland Yard!’ he called. ‘Can a detective help me? Gregory Lestrade? I appear to have _lost_ my coat!’ he explained to Greg. ‘I need my coat to go outside and play with my little girl.’

Rosie watched him giggling and shaking her head patting his curls. 'Funny Papa!'

Greg chuckled. 'Well I'll have to follow the clues to see if I can't find it. Maybe I need some help from a four legged friend.' Smiling he scratched Sultan's ears. 'I bet he can help.'

John finished getting Rosie in her coat and boots tying her hood. 'Do you think you can help Greg and Papa find his coat?'

Nodding she ran to the other room. 'Papa! In here!'

‘Thank you for your help, Detective Inspector. Sergeant Sultan. Let’s check this room, it seems Sergeant Rosie has found something,’ he said following her after he’d thrown John a questioning look. ‘Care to help me?’

John grinned. 'You know I can't resist helping on a case.' Scooping Rosie into his arms he kissed her cheek. 'Show me where you think it is. I think Sultan's heading in the right direction. Maybe you two can bring Papa his coat.'

Wiggling out of John's arms she dashed over to get Sherlock's coat, Sultan 'helping' carry the end of it. 'I founded it Papa! Me and Sultan founded it for you!'

‘Oh, you _found_ it! Congratulations, Rosie, Sultan. I’m so glad you _found_ it,’ Sherlock smiled, insisting on the corrected word. John and readings of numerous child development and education had taught him not to point at the mistake the child had made and simply correct it. He was certain he had improved and had noted that this advice was a sound one: Rosie corrected herself after a time, more and more reduced. His chest swelled with pride he did not even attempt to conceal.

Loving whenever Sherlock praised one of her deductions or whenever she found something she smiled up at him. Working the word carefully she nodded. 'We found it 'fore you and Uncle Greg. Sultan help-ed a lot. He's smart!' Dropping to her knees she wrapped her arms around the wiggling puppy who bathed her face in kisses.

‘Sultan is smart, yes. But you, Rosie Watson, are even smarter. The two of you make an undefeatable pair,’ Sherlock declared.

Rosie beamed with pride kissing the top of Sultan's head. 'He's the smartest doggy ever! He'll help lots an' lots on cases!' Wiggling and licking her face Sultan barked enjoying all the attention.

 

            ‘Siger, dear. Look at our boys. Playing with little Rosie. Time has reversed, has it not?’ Mrs Holmes asked her husband, a proud look on her face.

Holding her close he smiled. 'Mm now if they could just get Mycroft to join in on the fun. But he was rather relaxed and happy when Greg was playing with Rosie.'

‘Yes, he was,’ she agreed, putting her head against his shoulder. ‘He’s very good with her, no matter what his thoughts about it are, this is obvious. Playing with a child is different than playing with adults, even if they are friends and family. Mycroft needs some time, I think.’

He nodded dropping a kiss to the top of her head. 'And I'm sure that the more time he spends with her, the easier it will get for him. I'm certain she'll be spending the night with Mycroft and Greg now and then. It will give them a little practice. I believe the wheels in his head are starting to move ever so slowly and carefully. In a few years, Rosie might have a cousin to play with.'

‘Oh, that’s a certainty, my dear. And I’m confident she’ll love him or her as much as she would a brother or a sister. One can only hope that the boys will work through their issues before then,’ she added thoughtfully. ‘However, their partners do seem to be the type to insist on this,’ she smiled.

            John smiled at Mycroft. 'Just so you know whenever she stays over with you and Greg, Sultan will be coming along. They're already inseparable.' 

‘A warning I shall keep in mind,’ he nodded. ‘I will ask Anthea how to – unless you could help in making the house suitable for a toddler and her four legged companion, Gregory?’

John smiled. 'I can give you a short list of things. Outlet covers, padded bumpers for the sharp corners of tables she might bonk her little noggin on when she's running about. She's not a picky eater so you won't have to worry about that. Just cut things up in small bites for her.' Greg nodded. 'Sensible stuff. I've noticed a few things around Baker Street. Shouldn't be too hard.'

‘Not fussy about food? I imagine _you_ were not then. Sherlock certainly was – is. Fussy eater with a sweet tooth. Neither of these parameters have changed much, have they?’

‘I can hear you, Mycroft. ‘'Sweet tooth'’. You’re one to talk,’ huffed Sherlock as Rosie was playing and cuddling Sultan.

John shrugged. 'I started her on a one bite rule when she was very little. She has to at least try a small bite of something before deciding she doesn't like it. She loves her sweets though. I do my best to limit those. But if it's what gets Sherlock to eat and she bribes him with it and insists he have some then I'll let the rule bend.'

‘It does seem to be... sensible. I imagine it works. If you do find a way to... limit her intake of sugar, I’m certain - ‘

Rosie smiled up at Sherlock gently tugging his sleeve. 'We go out Papa? Pway in snow?'

Sherlock threw a glare towards his brother. ‘No one asked you to meddle in what is decidedly not your business, brother dear,’ he said coldly before turning back towards Rosie. ‘Yes! I’ll just button it close otherwise your Daddy will be fussing about it. Is there anything in particular that you want to play, Rosie darling?’

Rosie smiled. 'Snowballs an' snowmans an' snow angels!' John smiled. 'I bet Sultan will have fun chasing snowballs you throw for him. I bet he hasn't been out in the snow much either. You two will have quite the time.' Kissing Sherlock's cheek he tucked the ends of his scarf into the coat. 'Your brother is genuinely interested in how to keep Rosie safe and happy when she visits him and Greg. Might cut him just a bit of slack.'

‘If you want to build snowmen you might need carrots, Rosie. They need to have a nose,’ Sherlock explained and straightened under John’s admonition. ‘Low sugar,’ he offered, clearly refusing to explain his words and his tone further.

John rolled his eyes with a sigh smiling as he kissed Sherlock's cheek. 'Just be nice, ok, please. For Rosie's sake.'

Putting his hands in his pockets, Sherlock nodded as he mumbled.

Rosie nodded. 'Gotsa have cawwots for noses.'

Greg smiled. 'And some nice branches for arms. I'm sure you can borrow some buttons for eyes and to decorate with. I saw a big jar of them earlier.'

Mycroft smiled. ‘Gregory’s advice is perfect. I will bring the jar with the buttons, Rosie,’ he said as he stood up and extracted his phone from his jacket. ‘I have urgent business to attend to, however. Excuse me,’ he finished as he left the room.

            ‘Anthea. Yes. Happy Christmas. Thank you. Have my house childproof for tomorrow evening. No, not child-repelling. Yes, you heard me perfectly. Thank you,’ he disconnected the call and heaved a loud sigh.

‘Mycroft Holmes. Are you _hiding_ from your brother?’

‘No, Mother. Yes, I am,’ he amended after she rose her brows to signify her doubt.

‘I suspect Sherlock will need proof that you _are_ a good man before he can forget your … uncommon brotherly attitude.’ She shook her head. ‘He also has to take some distance and realise that he, too, is to blame for the poor relationship between the two of you.’

‘Mother, don’t – ‘

‘It will get better. Soon, I imagine. He needs to see that you care about Rosie. Your secret act has to stop being a secret. Gregory will help you, Mycroft. Now, go join them. Don’t forget the buttons,’ Mrs Holmes said as she put the jar of buttons on a shelf for Mycroft to take before she left the room.

 


	14. In the snow

Greg had pushed up the sleeves of his jacket and was busily forming and tossing snowballs for Rosie and Sultan to chase after while John and Sherlock sorted out snowman making materials. Spotting Mycroft he tossed a snowball at his feet with a cheeky grin. He was almost a good a shot as John and he'd missed on purpose. Rosie and Sultan chased after it with Rosie wrapping her arms around his legs.

'Unca Mycrotoft gonna pway too?!' Cheeks pink from the cold she peered out from under her 'fur' lined hood in an uncanny resemblance to Sherlock at her age.

Mycroft looked up at Gregory and smiled at him, taking strength from his partner’s evident happiness then turned his eyes to Rosie before kneeling next to her. He studied her carefully, hoping to find something that would derail his train of thought on her parentage entirely – but did not find anything. He only found more material to justify his conclusion. _Tomorrow_ , he thought, _I will have her DNA assessed and parentage certified._

‘It does seem that I am, Rosie, does it not?’ he asked, indicating the snowball that had crashed at his feet. ‘I have been attacked. I shall defend myself,’ he stated as he gathered snow to form a ball to throw at Gregory.

'I help?!' She smiled brightly eager to team up with her uncle against the other. Picking up a large handful of snow she packed it together in a rough ball, tongue poking out. 'Daddy says you gotsa do it like dis.'

Greg smiled. 'I don't think these are fair odds. Two, well, three, against one. Your Daddy and Papa are too busy arguing over how to put the snowman together to help.'

‘It is likely they will keep arguing, Gregory. The teams you are proposing are not of remotely equal strength. Let me offer an alternative.’ He threw the ball he had formed. ‘Run for cover, Rosie,’ he whispered. ‘You against us. Talented detective inspector from Scotland Yard against a toddler, a bureaucrat and a dog. Seems more than fair to me.’

Rosie giggled ducking down behind a birdbath which didn't provide much cover but to a toddler seemed ideal. 'I help!' making more snowballs she put in a pile for Mycroft. Oblivious to the 'rules' of the game, Sultan chased every snowball.

‘Yes, you do, Rosie dear. And you are doing a very fine job,’ he commented as he took one of the snowballs Rosie had made to throw at Gregory – _in his general direction,_ he mentally corrected. _I am absolutely terrible at shooting straight._

Greg raised a brow. He knew Mycroft was a decent shot, if a bit out of practice given his dislike of field work. 'Not a bad shot. Not a bad shot at all.' Grinning he tossed one that just clipped Mycroft's arm.

‘Hey!’ he protested. ‘I will not let you hurt me! And I’ll protect Rosie from enemies. You, my good sir, would do well to remember that I am a fierce opponent!’ he exclaimed as he threw another snowball that hit Gregory’s wrist. He had been aiming at his head.

 

 

***

 

 

John sighed. 'What do you mean we're out of carrots?! You told her the snowman _had_ to have a carrot nose…'

‘That’s what Mother always told me. How was I to know that there were no carrots?’ he retorted.

 John sighed rubbing his head. 'Guess we should ask the neighbours. Didn't your parents say something about one of the neighbours had horses? Horses should mean carrots.'

‘Yes!’ Sherlock exclaimed, grabbing John’s arms and planting a resounding kiss on his forehead. ‘John you are fantastic! Horses. Of _course_ _!_ I think Rosie would like to see the horses, too. Maybe _she_ should be the one to ask them?’

'Because who can resist that little angel?' John chuckled waving his hand at Rosie who was playing a game of chase with Sultan. It wasn't clear who was chasing who but they appeared to be having a grand time.

‘Precisely,’ Sherlock replied before letting go of John’s arms and letting one of them rest at the small of his back. ‘What do you think they are doing?’

John laughed. 'I'm not sure, but it looks like they're having a lot of fun at it. Not sure who's chasing who or if they have any idea which of them's doing the chasing, but they're happy.'

Sherlock hummed approvingly. ‘They seem to be. That’s good. I hope Rosie will enjoy herself half as much when she makes a snowman.’

 John smiled. 'They seem to be enjoying themselves. She'll love making a snowman. Especially if meeting horses to get carrots is involved. Rosie bee, come here. We're going for a bit of a walk.'

Dodging a snowball she tackled Sherlock's legs. 'Where we go Papa?'

Sherlock smiled at Rosie and slightly opened his arms. 'You'll see, Rosie, darling. I'm sure you'll like it.'

'Up!' She demanded then with a warning look from John she smiled. 'Pwease.'

Sherlock shook his head. 'Demanding now, are we?' he tutted. 'I'm taking you up because you asked nicely. Next time, young lady, I won't be so forgiving for a lack of manners. Manners are important. Remember our motto.'

Nodding she kissed his cheek. 'Manners matter. I sowwy.'   
John rubbed her back. 'You remembered. That's good. We're going to walk over and see if the neighbours have any carrots.'

'Apology accepted, darling,' Sherlock told her softly. 'We need carrots for the snowmen but we don't have any,' explained Sherlock before stopping in his tracks. 'Rosie? Do you want to see far away? Let's put you on my shoulders. You'll have a fantastic view, and I'm sure you will see interesting things ahead.'

Nodding she smiled. 'Yeah! Up high.' Settling she pat Sherlock's curls lightly. Gasping she pointed with a squeal. 'Horsies!!!' John smiled. 'Count how many sweetheart.' Counting in a mix of languages languages she smiled. 'Six!'

Sherlock chuckled, refreshed by Rosie's evident joy. 'Sechs. Bist du sicher? Crois-tu que leurs maîtres aient des carottes?'*

Nodding she smiled. 'Sechs, Papa!' Taking the change of languages in stride she took only a minute to process.   
'Oui Papa!' John smiled. 'My two clever loves.'

Sherlock turned his head and looked at John, a large smile on his face. 'Rosie is becoming cleverer by the minute. You can be a proud daddy, my dear,' he said before briefly letting go of Rosie's leg to take John's hand and squeeze it. 'Let us walk faster, shall we?'

John gave Sherlock's hand a squeeze. 'Pretty proud of her. And you.'

 

 

***

 

Greg smiled. 'Myc, love, I think you and I need to spend some time at the shooting range...' Giving him a wink he grinned. A little gun play, standing behind Mycroft and adjusting his hips and arms, pressing close. While it might not be everyone's idea of a great 'date night' he was sure Mycroft would like it.

‘While I am certain that it could prove beneficial and _interesting_ , I resent the implication,’ Mycroft replied and tried with difficulty _not_ to imagine Gregory and himself there. _The cold should extinguish any idea that comes into my head – evidently it’s not working_ , he thought as he threw Gregory a lecherous smile.

Greg winked at Mycroft tossing another snowball at him and getting his hip. 'I think we need to spend some time working on your aim…'

‘Yours does seem more precise than mine,’ he conceded. ‘It would be a shame not to do so quickly and miss the opportunity to apply my improved skills,’ he commented, tossing a snowball. It hit Gregory in the chest.

Greg laughed staggering around. 'I'm hit, I'm hit... Still need to work on your aim sometime soon.'

'And yet, you're hit. And down. Do you surrender? Or do I need to insist?' Mycroft asked. 'Or take advantage of you being down?' he continued as he walked and knelt next to Gregory who smiled up at him. 'Well you know how it always works in the stories. A kiss…'

'Your wish is my command,' Mycroft chuckled before bending over Gregory to kiss him. 'I would offer to warm you up, but I fear it would be most inappropriate.'

Greg smiled kissing Mycroft. 'Mmm well save the warming up for later. Give me something to look forward to.'

'You shall not wait in vain, Gregory,' he promised. 'I do have plans to warm you up and ravish you for tonight. I think I will take my time,' he teased.

'Is that so? Well don't make me suffer too much. A man can only tolerate so much.' He grinned cupping Mycroft's cheek.

'I will advise then,' Mycroft replied, a smile spreading on his face. 'Come, Gregory. We ought to be playing with Rosie,' he said standing up and offering his hand to Gregory.

Greg smiled. 'I think we could go in and warm up a bit. I think Rosie's off on an adventure.'

Turning slightly to the side, Mycroft saw John's and Sherlock's silhouettes, Rosie settled on his shoulders, Sultan running around them. He couldn't hear what they were saying or see the emotions they displayed, but their relaxed postures showed they were having a nice family time.

'Indeed, Gregory. Take my hand and let me warm you up a little. In all respectability and decency, you rascal,' he added before the situation even had an opportunity to get out of hand.

'Curses. Foiled again.' He laughed accepting Mycroft's hand up out of the snow. 'Look how happy they are. It's good seeing Sherlock so relaxed.'

'Is it? If you say so, I imagine you're right,' Mycroft replied, placing himself behind Gregory to share his body heat. 'Rosie does make usually... Tense people relax, doesn't she?'

Greg smiled. 'Well-behaved, sweet natured children usually do. She's a special one though.'

'Oh yes, she is,' Mycroft agreed. 'And extremely cherished, as well.'

'That she is. A very special young lady. I've seen the wheels turning. What is it? Might as well tell me,' he looked over at him.

‘It’s nothing of importance at the moment, Gregory. Unsettling, however. That much I have to admit. I don’t want to keep it a secret,’ he quickly added when he saw the look of disappointment on Gregory’s face. ‘It simply is of no importance now.’

Greg nodded. 'Even if you don't think it's important, you can still talk to me about it. Even if you have to be vague.'

Mycroft nodded solemnly. ‘I’ve never been good with people. Very young people, children and toddlers in particular. They’re so... slow. Unfinished – and stay that way more often than not.’ He took Gregory’s hands in his. ‘I did not imagine interacting with a toddler could be so rewarding, nor did the idea of encouraging them to be better, to be curious thus influencing their development – intellectual and otherwise – cross my mind.’

Greg smiled. 'She's one of a kind. Suppose it does make a difference when the kid's one you know and is related to you. She's one of a kind. Absolutely adorable. She's always open to corrections. When they're given gently. Like how Sherlock helps her say things the right way. It'll be fun having her stay over once in a while.'

‘I agree, Gregory. It will be a pleasure having her over. Father told me to focus on the positive aspects of life and having Rosie over clearly is one. As Mother would say "practise makes perfect".’

Greg smiled. 'A good reason for both of us to take a day off and do something fun. John's said she loves the zoo. I'm sure if you talk to the right people they'd look the other way and let Sultan come along.'

‘You know that I don’t bother myself with finding and addressing the person who’s the most susceptible to turn a blind eye.’

'It's a rare talent you have there. I'm sure you'll know just who to talk to about having a four legged companion coming along.'

‘I will not even need to do that. If it makes you feel better, I will. I can’t see it any other way.  Even if a Detective Inspector from Scotland Yard should have enough influence to do that, too,’ he teased. Greg smirked.

'Hm I don't know. It's kind of sexy watching you make people do things. Things like letting Sultan go to the zoo.'

‘I find that the other way around is rather... enticing,’ Mycroft replied as he locked arms with Gregory, his body almost pressed to that of the other man’s, so reluctant he was for them to be apart. ‘Let us go inside. It is not imaginable that you catch a cold – I’ll have you warm up. And you can give my parents that bottle of wine that you insisted on bringing with you as a ‘thank you’ note.’ Greg smiled kissing Mycroft’s cheek.

'Mm dry clothes, some of your mum's wonderful spiced cider, relaxing with you in front of the fire. Sounds like a wonderful way to spend the afternoon. Hope they like the wine. Wasn't sure what kind to get so I got a recommendation from someone in the shop. I tasted a bit. It's nice, for wine,' he half shrugged. Give him a good pint or a good cider and day over wine.

‘I heard numerous times that the gesture was more important than the rest in exchanging gifts.’ He paused briefly. ‘A most excellent way to spend the afternoon, indeed. I would rather be in the privacy of my own home, however. I don’t feel comfortable enough to partake in the display of intimacy you call "cuddles",’ he explained.

'Cuddles are very important. We'll just sit together and enjoy the afternoon. No high level cuddling. I promise. We'll watch some horribly cheesy Christmas movie and you can poke fun at it.'

‘Do not misunderstand my saying, Gregory. I know they are important and I happen to like them. I’m not comfortable enough for "high level cuddling" when I’m not in my own home. I certainly expect closeness, as you may have noticed.’ Greg kissed him with a chuckle.

'I promise nothing more than sitting next to you with my arm across the back of the sofa touching your shoulder.'

‘Thank you. Let’s go in, shall we? And see how my parents enjoy that bottle of wine.’

'Have to admit it's been quite a relief getting to know them. They've been incredibly kind. Your mum's quite a character. Your dad's incredibly nice.' He smiled. 'Hope the wine's half decent.'

‘I know I haven’t been particularly forthcoming when we broached the topics of our parents; I happen to find that one should build one’s own opinion. But I will admit that your opinion on them is really important and that I, too, find myself relieved after what you told me,’ he smiled as he ushered them both inside.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> * Sechs. Bist du sicher? Crois-tu que leurs maîtres aient des carottes?   
>  \--> Six. Are you sure? Do you think their master have carrots?  
> Here Rosie uses both German and French.


	15. It's cold outside

‘Back already, Myc?’

‘Indeed, Mother. Gregory and I decided to return to the warmth of the fireplace while Sherlock, John and Rosie paid a visit to the neighbour.’

Greg smiled. 'Rosie discovered the horses next door and we weren't half as interesting anymore. So we decided to come in where it's warm and dry.' Squeezing Mycroft's arm he pressed a light kiss on his cheek. 'I'm going to go get into some dry clothes and be right back.'

‘Yes, it sounds like a good idea. You did mention you were cold outside.’

‘Ah, a puppy and horses,’ Mrs Holmes chuckled. ‘I wonder what could compete to hold Rosie’s attention.’

‘I have no idea _what_ but I can certainly tell you _who_. She was perfectly entertained in her father’s arms. Sherlock’s arms, I mean.’

‘Of course she was. She – " _in her father’s arms"_  Myc?’ She tutted. ‘Now don’t you go put some ridiculous notion into anyone’s brains.’

‘As always, I will wait until I have proof, Mother.’

Siger smiled. 'As if he wasn't already her father. Even before the official paperwork. She's called him Papa since she could talk. Apparently decided all on her own and no one could or would change her mind.'

‘Am I to understand that John has contacted you?’ he asked, puzzled that his father knew this bit of information while he was unaware of it.

‘Well of course, Myc. It’s hardly a difficult leap. We had a grand number of things to plan for this Christmas, after all. And before that. You know how much your brother abhors using his phone to call but John does not mind it at all, especially if it is to talk about Rosie and Sherlock.’

‘Yes. Quite,’ he walked to the high chair that was still out, observed it quickly and sighed. _I’ll try with her hairbrush, then. Or I could – maybe – ask John. He does not take well when he’s being left in the dark. Sherlock doesn’t, either._ He turned around and glanced at his mother. _‘Not until I have proof.’_ He would be sly and not breathe a word of this before he had any.

Siger nodded. 'Of course he's contacted us. He may be a doctor, but he's never been a father before. Sometimes you just need to talk to someone who's been through it all before. When you're not sure if what's going on is normal or if you're being too worried over nothing. And sometimes he needs to talk about Sherlock. There were quite a few phone calls back and forth about the puppy. I'm sure she's having a grand time with the horses. Bridget runs a rescue. Rescued all of them and they're all grateful. Patient and gentle, all of them.'

Mrs Holmes walked to the window where she tried to get a glimpse of her son and his daughter. She could only distinguish vague silhouettes in the distance. Rosie and Sherlock will have a grand number of stories to regale them with. 'Are you talking about Bridget, our son or the horses?' she asked. 'These adjectives do suit them all.'

Mycroft turned his head, a quizzical look on his face.

'Since he cares for Rosie he has had to learn how to be patient, Mycroft. At least with her,' she explained. 'Now, where's that cider we've got? We can't have your man in front of the fireplace without a nice drink in his hand. Certainly not at this time of year.'

Chuckling softly Siger kissed her cheek handing her the spiced cider. 'Quite right my poppy. There's nothing Sherlock wouldn't do for Rosie. She's the best reason he's ever had to learn to be more patient. She's fascinated him from the moment he met her. So much information and data to process.' 

            Greg came downstairs in dry clothes. 'Did someone say there was more cider? Just what I need to help me warm up more.'

‘Ah, there it is,’ declared Mrs Holmes before she poured some in glasses. ‘Here you go, Gregory. Go sit in front of the fireplace, finish getting warmer. Afraid it’ll only be superficial but I’m certain you can count on Mycroft to -’

‘Mother!’ Mycroft exclaimed, shocked that his mother would talk about that particular subject – that particular subject and _her son_ – without so much as batting an eyelid. The look of profound surprise on his face had quickly been replaced by an awkward, bashful one, eyes downcast and cheeks aflame.

Greg stood in stunned silence for a moment before laughing. 'So that's where Sherlock got his utter lack of a filter. Always wondered about that.' Slipping his arm around Mycroft's waist he smiled. 'Come on, Myc. Let's go have a seat and you can recover.'

Mrs Holmes rolled her eyes and apologised in a sigh. After all, it wasn’t her intention to embarrass Mycroft. Siger, bless him, had long ceased taking offence at her inappropriate comments and she very much approved of Gregory’s reaction.

Mycroft agreed to Gregory’s idea, nodding.

‘I don’t think cider will be strong enough, however,’ he commented after he had settled on the sofa ‘I might require whiskey later on,’ he said as he collected himself, his face still a little flushed.

‘I'll get you a whiskey in a bit. John said your dad kept some pretty good stuff. If it got him through that bloody awkward Christmas then it can get you through this.'

‘Thank you, yes. Knowing this puts matters into perspective, does it not, Gregory?’

‘Mycroft, pull yourself together. You’re not a child and you’ve never liked mollycoddling,’ she scolded lightly. ‘Enjoy the present and its moments,’ she wisely said.

Greg chuckled. 'The more I'm around them, the more I like them. Your parents are really nice. And incredibly entertaining.'

Mycroft sighed as he sat on the sofa. ‘And I’m cold,’ Mycroft compl – _said_. ’Sit with me?’

Greg smiled pulling a blanket off the back of the sofa and draping it across them as he cuddled into Mycroft's side.

'Have some of my cider. It'll help you warm up.' He kissed his cheek with a chuckle. 'Always happy to sit with you.'

‘And I with you, Gregory,’ he replied, resting his head against his partner’s, enjoying the warmth of the blanket he’d so tenderly draped over them both, the crackling fire in front of them and the adoration he felt for the other man. Greg smiled taking Mycroft's hand under the blanket with a squeeze.

'See, I think you can more than handle this level of cuddling. Just us sitting together in front of the fire like this. Perfect thing to do on a snowy day.' Smiling he nuzzled Mycroft's hair gently pressing a kiss to his temple.

‘Certainly, I can. Not more, however. Not when others can see,’ he amended in a whisper, clasping his other hand with the one in Gregory’s. Greg chuckled.

'Mm so I must resist the temptation to get you off under the blanket and not have anyone be the wiser about it?' he smirked voice low in Mycroft's ear.

Mycroft’s breath stopped in his throat, his face burning, as he sat upright, jerking his head up.

‘Gregory – you – no – I mean, yes.’

Greg smiled a wicked teasing glint in his eyes. 'Mm but I promised I'd be good so I can't... I'd hate to break one of my promises to you. I really would.'

‘You had _me_ promise to be good. You didn’t make any such prom – Bugger!’ he cursed under his breath, owing him a smirk from Gregory.

 'Mm I did. Didn't I. Well then I should promise to be good too, shouldn't I. Unless you don't want me to be...'

‘Please, Gregory...’ Mycroft’s voice had lost all his usual confidence as his own body betrayed him. He knew he had to be more precise but his brain had apparently stopped working and another part of his body had taken over. Greg kissed along his neck lightly.

'Mm I take it you don't want me to be good then… I think if you're very quiet and just lay your head on my shoulder like you're resting no one will know...'

Mycroft was mortified as he laid his head against Gregory’ shoulder. ‘I will,’ he replied, thankful for the advice and the reassurance. He was not nonetheless completely at ease with the idea.

‘How can you be sure?’

'Because we have our backs to them and they're busy with dinner. It will look like you're simply resting your head on my shoulder and we're having a quiet conversation. Nothing more. I'm sure of it. Might have a bit of practice at this,' he chuckled softly.

‘Might?’ he asked mild surprise colouring his words.

'Might...' he chuckled. 'Sometimes you've just got to be sneaky about it so no one suspects a thing. Got bloody good at it too. Hope I haven't lost my touch...‘

‘I know you haven’t,’ Mycroft replied hoarsely. ‘I can attest to that. What we did yesterday comes to mind.’

'Good to know.' Greg smirked nuzzling his temple gently. 'You deserve a good portion of the credit for managing to be so quiet.' Lightly he let his hand stroke along the inside of Mycroft's thigh. Mycroft’s breath hitched and held Greg a little more tightly.

‘I’ve, er, no idea how to - ‘ he cut himself short, ashamed at his own admission of having something out of the sphere of his understanding. Greg smiled softly dark brown eye crinkling up at the corners.

'You don't have to do anything. Well, anything besides try and be quiet and enjoy yourself. That's all you need to do. And try not to think too much. Think you can handle that?' He kissed him softly.

‘Focus on the sensations and be quiet,’ Mycroft repeated. ‘I can do that. Not thinking too much...I’ll need er, help, for that, but I know you are more than capable,’ he shivered.

'That's it my love,'  Greg praised hand stroking soothingly. 'If you want or need me to stop at any time, just say the word and you know I will.' He kissed him gently. 'Just focus on what you're feeling and nothing else. I've got you. It's just me. You trust me.'

‘I do,’ Mycroft found himself replying. ‘And very much doubt I’ll want you to stop.’

'That's my brave love.' Greg smiled. 'You're always so so good to me. Seems it's more than time I was good to you. Just close your eyes and rest. I'll take care of you,' he murmured sweetly.

‘You’re always good to me, Gregory,’ he replied in a murmur, pressing his head more firmly against Gregory’s shoulder, closing his eyes as he did so.

'I try to be.' Greg murmured softly. 'I always want to be. You and I, we see a lot of bad things in the world. It's nice to have something good to hold on to. Just relax. I'm going to be very slow and gentle.' He nuzzled Mycroft's hair gently. 'Love you so bloody much I can't see straight sometimes.'

‘It’s a good thing you can’t see _straight_ if you love _me_ , Gregory. Did you…?’ he asked, belatedly realising Gregory’s admission. ‘Didn’t you say I shouldn’t think too much? Your choice of words here is definitely non conducive to what you required,’ Mycroft replied, speaking fast, aware that Greg knew him too well for it to fool him in the slightest.

'You happen to be very charming when you're flustered, Myc,' Greg teased him lovingly. 'And yes, I said it. I love you. Very much. More every day,' he nuzzled his cheek softly stroking him gently. 'I'm head over heels for you, Mycroft Holmes.'

‘Oh,’ was his eloquent response. ‘I, er. You know,’ he exhaled softly. ‘So am I, Gregory.’

Laughing softly Greg kissed him slowly.

'Good to know that we're both on the same page here. I'd hate to be the only one in love. Had a feeling you were. Was hoping you were.'

‘Of course. I wouldn't have let you in if I weren’t,’ he admitted.

Greg smiled slipping his hand in Mycroft's trousers and stroking him lightly.

'Oh so you've decided to let me in, have you then? So lucky you let down your walls and let me into your heart. And there's so much love in there.'

Mycroft gasped as quietly as he could. ‘Yes. Indeed I, I have. All for you.’ He knew he was not making much sense already and that it would only become more pronounced as Gregory worked him to completion.

'Lucky me. Luckiest bastard in the whole world,' he murmured softly nuzzling his jaw softly as he stroked him lightly. 'Just relax and enjoy yourself.' 

Closing his eyes once more, Mycroft let himself relax, focussing on the feeling of Gregory’s hand on him, on the beating of his heart, on the reactions his body had – increased temperature and , uneven breathing, increased heartrate. He’d not been able to relax before he developed a relationship with Gregory. ‘I couldn’t relax without you. Now I can.’

Greg smiled nuzzling his hair and kissing his temple gently.

'Good to know. You need to relax more. You don't have to be in control of everything all the time. Sometimes it's good to let someone else be in charge.' He stroked him slow and easy keeping his touch soothing. Mycroft’s fingers dug into Gregory’s thigh as pleasure steadily increased with his lover’s calm, purposeful stroking. 

‘One thing is, ah, certain, Gregory. I appreciate, ah, you being in charge. Brings me, ah, great pleasure.’ His breath was hitching in his throat.

'Mm try and remember that, yeah? I think you'll find you're able to think even better once you let things go a bit and just enjoy.' He kissed his forehead gently.

‘You, ah, know what to say to, ah, keep me right. Confident, I ah, like that.’

'Mm I try, I do try,' Greg murmured softly. 'Good to know you like it. We'll keep working on it. I know it'll be a process.'

The pleasure Gregory was giving him was building up and soon reaching a peak. ‘Greg-ory…,’ he breathed.

'It's all right, I've got you.'

Fingers digging even deeper, breath erratic, Mycroft’s whole body shuddered. ‘I’m...’ As he spent his release, heart hammering in his chest, his mind went absolutely, utterly blank. He stayed silent for a whole minute, unable to form a coherent sentence. Greg smiled nuzzling his hair softly and cleaning him up a bit. 'There now my handsome man. A lovely afternoon for a cuddle on the couch together. Just catch your breath. Take as long as you need. I'm not going anywhere.'

Listening to Gregory’s soothing voice helped put his brain back on the rail, his hammering heart had gone back to a slower, steadier rhythm and his breathing was evening out slowly but surely. He kissed Gregory’s cheek softly. ‘I’m not letting you go anywhere, Gregory,’ Mycroft whispered against his cheek, all the while embracing him. ‘Thank you.’

'You're very welcome my handsome love. I could tell you were all worked up and tied in knots. Thought a little relaxation would be good for you. Glad I could help you feel better. I don't want to go anywhere unless it's with you.'

‘You most certainly did,’ Mycroft agreed. ‘Additionally, you know you wouldn’t be able to go anywhere even if you wanted to,’ he teased. ‘I seem to recall you had insisted on bringing a bottle of wine. It might be as good a time as any to present my parents with it.’

'Now that we're both warm and relaxed seems like a great time to give them the wine. It'll go nice with dinner. I hope,' he smiled kissing Mycroft softly. 'It's nice seeing you so relaxed.'

Mycroft smiled. ‘And all down to you,’ he replied. ‘You should go and retrieve that bottle of wine,’ he said after a time, straighthening under the blanket, easing it off of them.

Greg nodded kissing his cheek. 'Back in a tick.'

 

            Gregory fetched the bottle he brought and showed it to Mycroft with a bit of pride. 'I didn't do all the work selecting it, but I did try it and it's very good. For wine.'

Mycroft took the bottle in his hand. ‘Merlot,’ he read. ‘It’s a classic one. Not a bad choice, one cannot go wrong with a Merlot, provided the year was a good one. What did they tell you to bring you to buy it?’

Greg shrugged. 'That it wasn't dry. I can't stand dry wine. It's fruity and got a bit of spice to it. Seemed nice and wintery. I just went with that tasted best out of the few I tried. Supposedly it's a good year, weather was good for the grapes. Not too hot, not too cold, not too wet, not too dry.'

‘Duly noted. If we can’t escape wine, I’ll go for a fruity, spicy one,’ he commented. ‘Let us go back to my parents and see what they think of it, shall we?’ Mycroft proposed, holding the bottle. ‘Although it is _your_ gift so it would be good manners that you handle it,’ he said as he gave it back to him.

Greg smiled slipping his arm around Mycroft's waist.

'Glad you think you'll like it. I really know nothing about wine aside from the fact I've had dry wine and it's supposed to be good but it's about like trying to drink wood chips.'

‘Indeed. Although quality has a role in a dry wine having taste. I do believe that if you were to try a Pétrus 2000 you would change your mind about dry wine.’

'I'd try it. For you. One time. Don't understand why people like it if it dries out your mouth.'

He took Gregory’s hand in his and led him to the kitchen where his parents were busy with dinner.

Siger looked up from chopping vegetables. 'Well there you two are. Did the cider chase away the chill?'  
Greg nodded without glancing at Mycroft. 'It did, thank you. I brought a bottle of wine. I hope it'll go well with dinner. Mycroft says it's decent.' He laughed. 'I know next to nothing about wine.'

Mrs Holmes thanked him as she took glasses from the cupboard. ‘Now, let’s taste this, shall we?’ She poured the wine, tilting the bottle just so.

‘Mother?’

‘Hm? Oh, yes, of course, you’re right. How could I forget. Silly old me, we have to let it breathe,’ she admonished herself, shaking her head. ‘Well, there is no harm in pouring it into glasses and wait – a shorter time than if it were still in the bottle, obviously,’ she declared, pouring the wine into the three other glasses she had taken out. Siger smiled slipping an arm around her.

'Lovely colour. Like those dark cherries you like so much my dear. Smells wonderful too. Like all the best of the holiday season.'

‘Indeed. And brought to us by Gregory, who brings the best of the holiday season in Mycroft. Or as we are privileged to call him, Father Christmas,’ she chuckled. Mycroft turned as red as the costume he’d been wearing the day before. Greg smiled gently hugging Mycroft close.

'He was wonderful at it and I know it meant a lot to Rosie to have a special visit just for her. It was good of you to do that for her. When she's older and knows it was you, she's going to love you even more for it.'

Mycroft sighed.

‘The only positive point I can see in this is that Rosie will not learn about it too soon – Sherlock would rather retire than inform Rosie about Father Christmas and cause her grief. However, I was glad to note that she enjoyed the attention,’ he added, pressing Gregory against him so he’d rest his head against his shoulder. Greg smiled holding him close.

'She'll figure it out eventually. But for now it was wonderful to see her so excited. You were wonderful.'

‘Thank you, Gregory. I did enjoy it, too. Don’t tell a soul,’ he whispered.

'My lips are sealed. No one will ever know. Our little secret. Promise.' He kissed Mycroft's cheek.

‘You have to remember to open your lips later,’ Mycroft replied in a soft voice, quite forgetting they were not alone. Greg chuckled. ‘To, er, talk. Evidently,’ he added for the benefit of their company, none of whom being fooled by his true meaning.

'I can manage that. I'm sure we'll have a very good conversation later.'

Mrs Holmes cleared her throat ‘If you don’t mind, Myc, it is still Christmas and much as I am glad to know that my son has _at last_ interests outside of work, such details are, I assure you, unnecessary. Now. Help your mother lay the table, if you wouldn’t mind. I’ve worked hard enough, and I really don’t think that ten minutes away from your man would do you wrong.’

He bore the look of a chastised child. ‘Apologies, Mother. I will, of course, assist you, unless you would rather question –, that is, unless you require Gregory’s help.’

Greg smiled. 'Go on, Myc. I'll help chop vegetables. I'm not too much in the kitchen but I can do that.'

‘Thank you, Gregory. You’ll have to train in cooking. That’s something he’ll enjoy,’ she whispered.

Greg smiled. 'It's my Saturday routine veg out watching cooking shows and being incredibly jealous of all the gadgets. Especially coffee grinders and makers. The Yard coffee could serve abroad ta,' he chuckled. 'It'll keep you awake but at the loss of your taste buds.'

‘Yes, you’ve mentioned that,’ she chuckled.

‘Jealous of the gadgets. Really, Gregory? I didn’t take you for the jealous type,’ Mycroft called above his shoulder.

'Only when it comes to kitchen gadgets and anyone flirting with you,' he teased with a wink.

‘Now I think that you are selling yourself short, Gregory. Who in their right mind would attempt to come in your way, Detective Inspector?’ Mycroft replied in the same tone.

'Oh I don't know. That Lady Smallwood never misses a chance to throw herself at you,' he shrugged trying not to grin.

Surprise passed across his features. 'What in the ...? That cannot be right.'

Greg shook his head. 'I swear that woman knows any time I'm in the building and does everything possible to delay me or be "in a meeting'' with you. She wants her hooks in you.'

‘That bothers you a lot. Hell will freeze over before _that_ happens,’ Mycroft answered in a confident tone.

'You're damn right it does. I have a spare few minutes and so do you so I swing by to bring you lunch and that she beast is there smiling at me like the cat that ate the canary,' Greg growled.

Mycroft arched an eyebrow. _She-beast? The man really was the jealous type._ He walked back to Gregory. ‘I’ll let her know that she is sorely mistaken. And I will let _you_ know that you have no need for that jealousy,’ he said, circling his waist possessively.

Greg sighed leaning into him. 'Sorry. Something about her puts my teeth on edge. Anderson-on-a-stupider-than-usual-day on edge.'

Mycroft tightened his hold on Gregory. ‘You have absolutely no cause to be jealous of anyone. Or do you need to be reminded that I am yours? Besides, if we were to start on that topic, I believe I would have more reasons to be jealous. You _are_ a particularly dashing man, Gregory, for whom men and women alike fall and feel attracted to without even being discreet about it. But you’re mine,’ he growled.

'Mm all yours you sexy bastard,' he chuckled softly kissing him. 'It happens and I completely ignore it like I always have. You're the only one for me. I promise.'

‘And you for me,’ Mycroft replied, his tone serious, kissing him back.

 


	16. The Prancing Pony

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Horses, Rosie, Sherlock and John.

Smiling as one of the large horses wandered over John watched Rosie's eyes go wide. "He's big, isn't he."

'Frisian horse. Dutch breed. Beautiful, isn't he? They can carry heavy weight as you can infer from their developed muscles and are so elegant that they've become favourite breed in dressage,' Sherlock commented.

Rosie nodded. "Pretty." John offered his hand for the animal to sniff. "I don't know much about horses but I know pretty." Another large horse wandered up. "Now this I know. That's a Shire. Old Scottish breed."

Rosie clapped happily. "Like Anus!"

John sputtered a laugh. "What?!"

Sherlock was confused: where had his little girl heard this word? Everyone around them was always very careful to the words they used. 'Rosie?' he enquired, not daring to say more.

"Merida horsie." She reached for the large horse who sniffed at her curiously. John laughed. "Oh... Angus. You forgot the _g_ there love."

Sherlock couldn’t help but laugh at his own overprotective side. ‘I really should have known,’ he berated himself. ‘She has watched Brave often enough.’

John snickered. "I should have thought of that given the resemblance. I thought maybe she was learning proper anatomical terms. Which I'm mostly ok with."

‘John, I would have told you if I were teaching her proper anatomical terms and I assume you would remember what _you_ teach her,’ Sherlock teased. ‘I doubt his name is Angus, Rosie. I can see someone over there, with any luck it’ll be the owner. He’ll be able to tell you – and hopefully give us carrots for the snowmen.’

John laughed squeezing Sherlock's hand. "I have a feeling that no matter what we find out the name is, she's going to call it Angus."

‘It does sound like something she would do, yes,’ sighed Sherlock, ever so slightly shaking his head.

Rosie smiled waving at the person. "Hi person! Pretty horsies!"

The woman smiled. "Well, aren't you a sweet little thing. And yes they are, aren't they. And all spoiled completely rotten. You must be Rosie. I've heard a lot about you."

 ‘How surprising that my parents would speak about a child that is not even theirs,’ said Sherlock, grinning to John. ‘I wonder what they’ve told you. Hello,’ he added as John threw him a look. _Manners._ ‘Her father would say that she is both an angel and a small demon. Aren’t all children like that?’

John smiled. "She's theirs. I think the pile of presents and the puppy made that clear. And she's mostly an angel. Unless she's in a mood."

The woman laughed. "I'm Bridget. Pleasure to meet you. If she's Rosie, you two must be Sherlock and John. It's a pleasure."

‘Point taken,’ Sherlock nodded. ‘Indeed, Bridget. I imagine you’ve heard a lot about us as well. Pleasure to meet you – I daresay Rosie here is the reason we’ve come this way.’

"Well is that so now? And how can I be of help for Miss Rosie?"

The large Shire horse sniffed at Rosie nuzzling her cheek. Giggling she stroked his nose. "Soft!"

John smiled.

"Well we were building a snowman but realized we were out of carrots. We hoped since you had horses, you might have some."

"I do. You're welcome to come over to the house and get them."

‘Aren’t horses superb? Much more interesting than the train, for example,’ Sherlock told Rosie who was now in his arms: high enough to pet the horses but not too high on her Papa’s shoulders. ‘I think we’ll stay here, John. Rosie is rather busy determining whether Sultan would need another companion,’ he snickered. ‘Thank you, Bridget,’ he added as an afterthought.

Rosie laughed as the horse lipped curiously at her coat patting his large head. John smiled. "Rosie, love, the horses need lots of room to run and I don't think they could get up the stairs very well."

Huffing she gave John a ' _How stupid do you think I am_ ' look. "Dey stays wif nice lady. I visit."

Bridget laughed. "I'd be happy for you to look in on them from home. I do that when I'm away and your lovely grandparents feed them for me.”

‘That would be a nice arrangement. Well thought-out. I wouldn’t have expected anything less from you’ Sherlock replied, bouncing her up on his hips. ‘Don’t you need to be able to know who is who then, Rosie darling? And maybe...Ask a question to your Daddy?’

Rosie kissed the horse on the nose patting his face gently. "Preddy horsie. Angus preddy."

Bridget smiled. "You got it in one guess. I didn't like his old name and I don't think he did either so I settled on Angus and we both like it. This handsome lad's Onyx." She patted the Friesian on the neck. "I'm sure the others will come wandering over soon enough."

She smiled at John. "I stay an' pet horsies Daddy?"

John smiled. "Since Papa's staying with you, yes you may."

Bridget smiled. "She can sit on either, or both of them. They won't wander off."

Rosie clapped her hands. "Don' forget cawwots!"

‘They are pretty, indeed. Or handsome,’ Sherlock agreed. ‘Now, what do you say to Daddy, young lady? "Don’t forget carrots" is hardly good manners, is it?’ He looked over at John, an apologetic look on his face.

"Cawwots pease Daddy an' Bridgy lady."

John kissed her cheek. "Much better. We'll bring the carrots back. You and Papa have fun."

Sherlock smiled. ‘I can assure you, we will.’

 

            As John and Bridget left, he put Rosie on top of a horse. ‘Now, remember. Hold on his mane till I come here.’ His little girl looked very curious, intrigued; however she held her curiosity in check until Sherlock had jumped the fence and stood next to her. He petted the horse’s neck. ‘Now relax, darling. Let his mane go a little.’

Rosie giggled hugging Angus' large neck. "Sweet horsie. Him _big_ , Papa!" Holding his mane she wiggled on his back. To his credit Angus held still barely flicking an ear.

‘He is, isn’t he? What does that make you then?’

"Makes me a pwincess."

 He patted the muscles of Angus’ shoulder with one hand and took the mane out of Rosie’s hand, laying it flat next to his, indicating she should do the same. ‘Angus being lovely, he deserves to be thanked for that,’ Sherlock explained.

 She giggled stroking Angus' neck. "Pweddy boy. Nice horsie."

‘Quite so,’ he agreed. ‘Now, Rosie. You already are a princess, darling. A lovely princess sitting on top of a pretty horse,’ he replied loudly marking the t’s. ‘Don’t you want to meet Onyx, too? I can see he’s becoming a little bit jealous that Angus gets all your attention,’ he teased.

Rosie leaned over to stroke Onyx's nose. "Hi Onyx. Gots foofy hair like Papa."

Sherlock chuckled. ‘That’s not a word, darling. Do you want to go and sit on him? He seems to like you,’ he commented as Onyx gently brushed his nose over her face.

Nodding she kissed Onyx's nose. "Yes please Papa. Him nice too." Stroking the dark mane she smiled at Sherlock. "I do ribbons for his hair?"

‘That was a very good please, Rosie. And you know it is a very important, so it’s only fair that you should know how to pronounce it correctly. Well done,’ he praised her. ‘What is it with you and hair, I wonder,’ he replied in a chuckle. ‘We don’t have ribbons here, do we? You’ll ask Bridget if you’re allowed when she returns with Daddy. I doubt she’ll say ‘no’ but just to be on the side of... Remind me, Rosie. What matters?’ he continued as he took Rosie up Angus and settled her on Onyx.

"Manners matter." She nodded gently patting Onyx's smooth neck. "I ask nice. Make horsies even extra prettied-er."

‘You’re taller than I, up there!’ he exclaimed good-heartedly.

Laughing at Sherlock she waved at him. "Me tall!" she exclaimed.

He waved back at her, giving her a broad smile. 'Yes, you are, darling. Daddy will be cross if I don't take a picture of you for him,' he said, taking his phone out. 'Wave at me again, darling, please?' He clicked the camera application on his phone and turned around when she gave an excited little squeal, her finger pointing forward to the four other horses approaching them. He had had the good sense and the reflex of taking another picture for John - and the secret album he was making.

 

            Onyx nickered tossing his head carefully and prancing a bit in place as the other horses came to see what was going on. Two ponies, an Arabian, and what was likely a retired race horse made their way over. "Ponies! Look Papa! Ponies!!"

‘Do you like ponies, Rosie?’ Sherlock asked in feigned surprise. ‘More than Sultan? I hope not, he’d be miserable if you stopped playing with him.’

"Love Sultan bestest. Love ponies and horsies too." She nodded giggling as one of the ponies curiously nibbled on the toe of her boot. "They funny Papa!"

Sherlock chuckled ‘They’re mostly curious, Rosie my darling. They don’t have the privilege to see a small human on a daily basis.’ He ruffled her hair. ‘I’m glad to note that you are not afraid of them even if they’re much taller than you. We will have to enroll you for horse-riding sessions when you’re a bit older. Will you like that? I think you will,’ he declared thoughtfully.

Patting the pony on the head she giggled. What was there to be afraid of? Papa was right there to make sure nothing bad happened. "Boots not for eatins silly!" She laughed. "We go ridins now Papa?"

Her little face had crunched into a thinking expression as he spoke – and he knew that she understood what he had said more clearly. He smiled at her. ‘You’ve no idea how proud I am of you,’ Sherlock said gravely. ‘My clever girl.’ He patted the horses who were near them. ‘I don’t think Daddy or Bridget would appreciate us riding without permission. ‘We’ll ask them when they come back, my darling, I promise.’

Sighing she nodded. "We wait for Daddy. Den we go ridins? Daddy ride too?"

‘Good girl. I can’t promise we’ll ride today if Bridget doesn’t want us to ride her horses but we will ride, I promise. I’m also certain Daddy will enjoy riding with you.’ Sherlock squinted at the sun blinding him. ‘There he is.’

 

            Waving to John Rosie smiled. "Hi Daddy! Hi lady person!"

Bridget laughed dumping several sugar cubes in Rosie's hands. "It's Bridget, love. Would you like to feed them treats? I'll show you. Here, hold one in your hand just like this, nice and flat and let them eat it. Come on Angus, you love your sugars."

The large horse approached Rosie carefully sniffing her hand before gently picking up the bit of sugar.

‘That’s good, Rosie,’ Sherlock encouraged her to continue as he’d seen her hand tremble ever so slightly. ‘You’re being very brave. I can tell he likes you,’ he continued. ‘She’s got that from her Daddy,’ Sherlock uttered, as he turned to John, eyes crinkling with admiration and pride and soon went to settle behind him, arms wrapped around his waist, head bent over his neck, all but saying ‘I missed you’. John smiled leaning back into Sherlock a bit and pressing a kiss to the underside of his jaw. A small 'I missed you too'.

"Very good Rosie. The horses are very gentle. Just keep your hand nice and flat like Bridget showed you. They like you very much." Glowing with pride at the praise and sitting up a bit straighter Rosie smiled. "Good horsies like sugar like Papa!" John chuckled. "Yes they do."

‘’m not a horse. I know someone else who likes her sugar,’ Sherlock grumbled.

John snickered. "You _both_ like sweets. And don't think I haven't seen the evidence on both your faces and hands after you've stopped off for tea somewhere and had a bit of something to go with it."

Sherlock held his head up. ‘It was hardly a secret,’ he retorted. ‘Quicker, more efficient,’ he explained. His detachment would have had an impact had he not kept his arms around John’s waist.

Smiling he nuzzled along his neck. "I'm not mad, love. Not at all. I think it's sweet. So long as you both eat your dinner, I don't mind that you have sweets now and then."

‘As long as it’s not the thing with peas – and I’m not on a case,’ Sherlock agreed, reluctance in his voice.

"I promise not to do the thing with peas and a minimum of nagging you to eat when you're on a case. You know Rosie insists though. You don't eat, she won't eat and that's not on." He looked up at him.

‘Of course she needs to eat,’ he agreed wholeheartedly. ‘I’ve tried to explain that to her, you know. I told her that she needed to eat when it was breakfast, lunch or dinner time, that her body and organs needed energy because she was growing and using it constantly, that you would not like her missing a meal and that even if I sometimes didn’t eat it certainly did not make it acceptable if she didn’t either. I failed on this one, didn’t I?’

John smiled softly. "No, love, not at all. She's caught on that if you don't eat and then she refuses to eat that you'll give in and eat something to please her and get her to eat. Don't think I haven't noticed that pleased smile she gets when you eat after saying you're not going to."

‘I should expect some sort of telling to when she gets older, I imagine,’ he sighed. ‘Don’t pretend the same one isn’t on your lips when I give in,’ he quipped. ‘Rosie, darling, didn’t you want to ask Daddy something?’

Rosie nodded. "Daddy, we go ridins on horsies?" John blinked. "Well maybe if Bridget says we can. I haven't been on anything other than a pony since I was Rosie's age." He looked up at Sherlock. "I'm going to take a guess you've had a bit more riding experience."

‘Whatever gave you that idea?’ he asked, hiding his head in the crook of John’s neck.

Nuzzling his hair John laughed. "Because that just seems like something you'd have done quite a bit of."

‘As it happens you are correct, John. Am I right to assume you’ve been euphemistic there? We need to broaden your riding experience,’ he added after a short pause.

"Mm I think I do need to ''broaden'' my ''riding experiences''. That definitely sounds like something we should look into later. For now I think it would be best for you to hold on to Rosie and go for a bit of a walk. A nice, slow walk."

‘Of course a slow wa-’ Sherlock cut himself short, feeling very hot, his cheeks flaming red. ‘I’ll er, yes. I think that’s for the best.’

John chuckled, a satisfied smirk on his face. It wasn't often he or anyone could leave Sherlock speechless so it was something to be remembered when it happened. "You two just enjoy a nice slow walk. I'll be right here."

Sherlock nodded. ‘Promise?’ he asked, softly kissing John, wondering if he had meant what he had just implied.

"Oh I promise, love. You have my word on it." He nodded stroking his cheek.

Bridget smiled. "If one of you would like to sit behind her and hold on to her we can go for a bit of a walk. They'll follow me wherever I lead with a bit of a bribe for some sugar." She laughed watching Rosie play with Onyx's mane.

‘Thank you,’ he whispered against John’s lips. ‘I will, yes. Thank you for offering, Bridget. That’s very kind of you,’ he said. ‘Sorry, Rosie, Daddy is not going to ride today. Papa will ride with you instead,’ he passed his arms around Rosie, grabbed Onyx’ mane and hoisted himself over his back with a pull of his arms and a kick of his long legs. It had been a while since he’d ridden bareback but it was embedded in his muscle memory and had no trouble at all to access them.

Rosie snuggled back against him completely trusting him to keep her safe. "Ok. Bye Daddy! We go now Papa?" Bridget smiled.

"We sure will. Just give him a gentle tap of your heels and a little squeeze with your legs to let him know it's ok to walk."

 

            Listening intently Rosie carefully nudged the horse. "Walk pwease." Snorting softly Onyx followed Bridget nosing at her hand for the sugar cube. Giggling Rosie smiled up at Sherlock. "We go Papa! Me ridins big horsie!"

‘Yes, I can see that,’ he chuckled. ‘My brave little princess, Papa is proud of you. Tu es si grande et si calme. On croirait que tu chevauches depuis que tu es née.’

Giggling Rosie smiled up at him. "Oui, Papa. We go ridins lots?" She'd got the general idea of what Sherlock had said.

‘You do appear to have some predisposition for it, it would be a shame to let it go to waste. I’ll ask what Daddy thinks, but I can predict he’ll agree with the idea. Yes, Rosie. We will, I’m sure of it,’ he replied.

"Go ridins!" She squealed clapping excitedly and clapped her hands. Waving to John she smiled brightly. "I go ridins with Papa!"

Nodding he waved back. "I see. Good job sweetheart. Papa's doing such a good job helping you ride."

Sherlock preened and smiled broadly under John’s compliment. ‘It’s hardly demanding. She’s riding as if she’d always been. Next time Rosie, it’s Daddy who’ll ride with you. I’m sure he’ll like that as much as you.’

John shook his head. "Yeah, I highly doubt that. Dangerous at both ends and crafty in the middle. I think I'll leave the horseback things to Papa. When you're older I'll teach you how to use a compass and find you way using the stars. You're nice and safe up there with Papa holding on to you."

‘Don’t presume I can’t recognise a jibe when I hear one,’ he replied sternly. ‘Daddy is not fun, is he? Maybe I can make him nice and safe on a horse as well,’ he mused.

"Don't even think about it, Sherlock! Don't even think about thinking about it!" John shook his head. "I don't trust being stuck on something that has a mind of its own! No thank you."

Bridget smiled. "I could put him on one of the ponies. His feet might almost reach the ground."

‘Now that would be an excellent idea, Bridget,’ Sherlock replied, a conspiratorial smile on his lips. ‘John, your daughter is enjoying herself so much surely you’d want to share this with her at some point.’

John shook his head. "Nope. I believe that horseback riding can be a Rosie and Papa activity. I'm perfectly ok with that. You teach her to ride and I'll cheer the two of you on. Just none of that dangerous jumping stuff. At least not until she's much older."

Sherlock huffed. ‘Suit yourself,’ he commented, frustration and disappointment clear in his voice. ‘Ridiculous notion. Here I was thinking you weren’t scared of anything,’ he sighed.

"Didn't say I was afraid. Said I didn't trust anything that has me strapped to its back and has a mind of its own. There's a difference." John chuckled.

‘Since when do _you_ care about semantics? Everything in your behaviour from your adamant refusal to sit yourself on a horse for _your daughter’s sake_ to the widening of your pupils when presented with the possibility confesses it for you,’ he retorted.

"Fear has nothing to do with personal preference and not trusting something that could take off running with me strapped to its back." John snorted. "Nothing's wrong with you two sharing an activity I'm not involved in."

‘Ms Ryan, may I ask for your assistance in a certain enterprise of mine?’ Sherlock asked, his voice low so John could not hear him.

Bridget smiled. "It would be my pleasure. Your parents are wonderful neighbours."

 

‘Thank you, Ms Ryan. Would you be amenable to lend me one of your ponies – the tamest of the two, if possible - and the proper riding gear tomorrow? I intend for John to review this ridiculous notion he has about riding and amend it,’ he explained.

Bridget giggled at their bickering. "You're more than welcome to it. They're both gentle as lambs and patient as the day is long. Ginger's a bit more patient. Patch has a bit of a mind to do things his own way at times. I'm happy to keep an eye on the wee one here and let her sit on Angus while you two do your thing. He makes an excellent babysitter."

‘Fear is irrational, John. I would have thought that you were not… prone to fancies. Let me only tell you this: there is absolutely no danger in a horse if he’s well-trained, just like any other animal. Would you say that Sultan can be dangerous? Of course you wouldn’t. Yet dogs have a mind of their own. But he’s been well-trained. Rosie enjoys being where she is. Now why isn’t _she_ fussed at all and _you_ are? Call it what you will, my mind is set on it being ‘fear’. Obviously there is nothing wrong with her and I sharing an activity you’re not involved in. Consider that it could be an activity all three of us share.‘

John grumbled. "Dangerous at both ends and crafty in the middle. Sultan's a bit different. Dogs like him have been bred to be patient and loving. Horses are prey animals. Can't breed that out of them."

Bridget giggling and Rosie happy squealing brought a smile to his face despite the disappointment John had elicited in refusing to sit with his daughter. ‘You’re a marvel, Bridget. It’d be best that John rides Ginger, then. I’ve absolutely no doubt that Angus is an excellent babysitter – and my darling little Rosie would enjoy her time tremendously. Anything you require?’

Bridget smiled. "Of course I'll be keeping an eye on her as well. Wouldn't leave a little tyke like her alone with any horse. Just getting new riders is payment enough. These horses have all been through a lot. Every chance they get to do something that makes them feel useful and loved is all I need."

‘You only are repeating yourself, John. I imagine it’d be best if we dropped the subject and enjoyed the ride. Sorry, the walk,’ he amended. He’ll talk with John about trying riding later.

‘Thank you. You don’t suppose I could ride Onyx every once in a while when I happen to be down at my parents’, do you? I’m realising how much I missed this activity. Thank you, Rosie darling for making me aware of it. And are you enjoying yourself, little lady?’ he asked her, even though she obviously was.

Rosie giggled leaning back against him and smiling at him upside down. "We ridins Papa! Papa an' Rosie ridins big horsie!"

Bridget smiled. "I'm sure Onyx would love that. He's quite the show off. Put on some music and he's ready to perform. He's also good at cross country jumps. He's come a long way from when I got him."

He returned Rosie’s smile as soon as her face split into a joyous grin. ‘Yes, we are, my darling. I’m glad to see you are having such a good time. If only your Daddy – ‘ he cut his musings short. ‘Oh. It does sound as if he would need the distraction,’ Sherlock commented. ‘Thank you for accepting, all the same. I’m sure we’ll get on like a house on fire,’ he noted.

Bridget smiled. "He'll enjoy it. His previous owners were going to put him down for a simple ligament tear that healed itself with stall rest and patience. He loves to show off his fancy footwork."

Sherlock’s features slackened. ‘That’s absolutely horrible. How can anyone in their right mind…? He must be really happy that you rescued him,’ he approved. ‘Fancy footwork and a love for dancing. Yes, we _will_ be thick as thieves,’ Sherlock chuckled. ‘And John will make fun of that,’ he added, an affectionate smile dancing on his lips.

She shrugged. "Angus was left to founder, I rescued Ginger and Patch came from being used at children's parties. The Arabian's Kismet. He was a racer and showed promise but a bone chip ended that. He's a bit high strung and does best when Ghost is with him. She's calm and steady and her non reaction to pretty much everything keeps him calm too. I got her at a sale where she would have been auctioned off for meat because she's got bad teeth."

‘All of them look quite happy and in good shape. You must take exceedingly good care of them,’ he praised. ‘Given their track record, it seems they were not really used to it. Aside from Kismet, but then again, one wants such a horse to be in good condition to bring money – if one goes into competition for that sole reason.’

"They have lots of room to run and exercise, a warm barn with big stalls for when the weather's bad. They get good quality feed and mostly healthy treats. They've been through a lot and not one of them has turned mean. They're all gentle and eager to please.

‘You should tell that to John,’ he chuckled.

‘We never competed just for the money. She's a diva and loves showing off. There's nothing she won't try and jump. It's basically show her the route, get on, hold on tight, and let her do her thing."

Sherlock nodded, taking in the glint in Bridget’s eyes as she talked about her horses. She really was taking good care of them all and enjoying doing so. ‘One can easily see they are your passion,’ he commented.

She smiled. "I'd rescue every horse if I could. I do what I can and work with a rescue group. I'm sure once John realizes that most horses are very calm, gentle, and obedient, he'll change him mind."

Sherlock nodded once more. ‘John can be very stubborn. He’ll have to see for himself, I’m afraid. I’m certainly endeavouring to have him change his mind. Push him in the right direction.’

She smiled. "Bring your wee one over any time. I'm usually in the barn. Even if I'm not, you're more than welcome to just hang about. Let him get used to the horses and see that they're gentle, caring, intelligent animals. Especially mine. I might be a bit biased though."

‘I hear there is nothing wrong in having a bias of some sort,’ Sherlock smiled. ‘Thank you for your kindness, especially with Rosie. You are incredibly nice and very helpful – with such docile horses, I doubt John would not see them differently.’

‘Well since your parents have been so nice to me, it's practically like us being family. I like educating people about horses. John's not the only parent to be a bit wary of letting their child on a large animal. I do small lessons and get children and their parents used to horses and show them that using common sense, there's very little to fear."

‘As you can see, Rosie is absolutely not afraid of being on Angus and John was not too wary of letting her on him,’ he shrugged. ‘Getting him on a horse, however...Well, I’ll talk him around and he’ll try tomorrow. Ready to get back to Grand-mère, Grand-père, Uncle Greg and Uncle Mycrosoft, my darling?’

A pout forming she looked up at Sherlock. "See horsies adain Papa? Pease. Dey fwends."

‘Of course, darling,’ he replied a reassuring smile on his face. ‘There was no need to pout. Make sure to tell Daddy how well you got along.’

Nodding she leaned into him patting the horse gently. "Good horsie. I tome back 'morrow."

John smiled. "Look at my big girl up there riding with Papa! So proud of you."

‘You can be, John, she had a wonderful time. She was so serious and concentrated for the whole ride. Brigid agreed to let us come whenever we want – Rosie would enjoy it.’

John smiled lifting her down and kissing her cheek. "Isn't that nice of Bridget to offer. I'm sure we'll take her up on that." Slipping his free arm around Sherlock he smiled. "And Sultan had so much fun playing in the snow and chasing sticks."

Sherlock smiled warmly back at John. ‘And here I thought that Sultan had genes of hunting dogs,’ Sherlock chuckled to himself. ’It is too nice an offer to dismiss. Besides, I imagine you don’t want to disappoint her ladyship, here.’

John chuckled. "Whatever he is, he's good at chasing and fetching sticks." Sultan pranced along with a stick looking very pleased with himself.

‘Sultan, good boy! Clever boy!’ Sherlock cheered. ‘Yes, he seems very good at it. And seems very proud about it, too,’ he chuckled.

Sultan gave a muffled woof around his prize stick looking up at Sherlock, his tail a blur.

"Since Bridget was so nice to offer, we'll definitely see the horses again. Promise." He kissed Rosie's cheek bouncing her.

 ‘Thank you, John. I’m glad you want to come. Rosie would not be the only one to be sad not to have you around. I’m sure we’ll all have a good time tomorrow.’

 "Just because I don't want to be on a horse doesn't mean I won't be there to encourage Rosie and see you prancing about on Onyx," he teased.

‘Prancing? Me? Have you met me, John?’ Sherlock asked in mock indignation.

Giggling he shrugged. "Love, if you were a horse you'd look just like Onyx. Look at my flowing mane, Jawn! Watch me prance, Jawn! Look at my swishy swishy tail Jawn! Neigh!" Rosie smiled and giggled.

"Papa pweddy woke Onyx."

Sherlock looked offended at John’s statement. ‘I don’t act that way,’ he pouted. ‘Even if I’m pretty.’

John smiled. "If you were a horse you probably would. And you'd be gorgeous."

Rosie nodded patting John's cheek. "Daddy a pony."

John laughed. "Ok then."

‘Short.  But somehow imposing. Yes, that suits him. Let’s go back inside before the freezing cold burns either of you,’ he said starting his way back to the warmth of his parents’ house.

John laughed. "Well at least I'm imposing." Setting Rosie down once they got in he got her out of her coat and mittens. "You and Sultan can go play for a bit before dinner. Just stay where we can see you, ok." Rosie nodded tossing one of Sultan's toys for him.

‘John you were a military man. A _Captain_. A Captain who would not shy away in the face of danger but rather seek it. Of course you are imposing.’

"Thank you love." He smiled kissing Sherlock's cheek. "I must seek it being with you all these years."

Sherlock’s eyebrow rose slightly, eyes boring into John’s, body invading his partner’s personal space. He stayed silent for a few seconds. ‘Clearly,’ he declared, his baritone voice a rumble.

"Clearly." John smirked pulling Sherlock closer and kissing him. "A little thank you for being so wonderful with Rosie and the horses. She was so happy. I got some wonderful pictures of you two. I need to start a scrapbook."

‘A scrapbook,’ Sherlock deadpanned. ‘Really, John, you cannot be so bored as to do that. Or so old. Or so _single_. I should spice things up a bit. Keep you from being bored.’

"It's got nothing to do with being bored." He laughed. "It's everything to do with keeping memories. Pictures of Rosie and you riding, Rosie and her presents, Rosie and Sultan, us, your parents, Greg and Mycroft. It'd be nice."

‘Fine. Do try not to make this ridiculously sentimental. And to keep pictures of me to a minimum. Please,’ he added.

"I will try to keep it from being too sentimental and only the most flattering pictures of you looking your most handsome will go in. I promise."

‘I knew you could be reasoned with,’ he grinned before kissing him.

Grinning at Sherlock he shrugged. "Well it's an easy thing. I'm sure we'll have lots of pictures of Rosie as she grows up."

‘Evidently,’ he agreed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Tu es si grande et si calme. On croirait que tu chevauches depuis que tu es née. - French. You're so tall and calm one would believe you've been riding since you were born.
> 
> Sherlock as a horse - Frisian, of course.  
> https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ks0OmTMh0vo&fbclid=IwAR3jAOFLm_LX0F_0kLrWkfwfPqjjK6zIYVbI8Q8h_SDuFP2XwhJivY1j3dw  
> https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=UN9c4qPuY1U&fbclid=IwAR0mjIT-h8qVm9KNROqtb4myPaiQNe9t5c7UozrOYdScckfD41UeKS8wfXg
> 
> For those of you who haven't seen Brave/don't know what a Shire horse looks like  
> http://www.swedenhorseshow.se/sihs/wp-content/uploads/2014/05/11.shirehobby.jpg
> 
> a race horse  
> https://mistable-files.s3.amazonaws.com/live/images/public/145/2016/10/5c5c1fd5863fc3ca2610a6acf243f673a1d09dc2.JPG
> 
> an Arabian horse  
> https://i.pinimg.com/736x/20/c8/f1/20c8f163006269e74e710ee72391b1e9.jpg


	17. Dinner and emotional rollercoasters.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy reading!

‘Why listen to his mother, he’s never bothered to do so,’ Mrs Holmes complained to her husband who laughed softly.

"He's always been hard headed about things. He usually comes around to seeing your way once he figures out how to make it seem like it was all his idea to begin with."

‘He wouldn’t be doing a very good job as someone with his minor position in the British government if he weren’t,’ she agreed. ‘I only wish he’d realise he doesn’t need to be so… wayward when he comes home.’ She fussed about, selecting utensils for a plate she was making. ‘Ah! Rosie. Come here please darling. Tell your Uncle to help his mother, would you darling? Did you have fun outside? Your rosie cheeks say you did, but I’ll want to hear it all from you.’

Rosie smiled. "Saw th' horsies! Wented for ride wif Papa on BIG horsie! Horsie like Angus. An' preddy horsie like Papa. We go back see horsies 'morrow." Nodding she wrapped her arms around Violet.

‘Oh, so you _went_ riding with Sherlock, then. That does sound like an adventure,’ she chuckled, embracing the child clutching her.

Rosie smiled. "Papa good wif horsies." She snuggled into the embrace soaking up the affection.

‘Of course your Papa is good with horses. He’s always liked them and grew up with horses. I imagine that’s something he would like to pass onto his little girl.’

‘I wonder why Dr. Watson did not join them,’ Mycroft wondered aloud.

John shrugged. "I don't like horses. Dangerous at both ends, crafty in the middle. I'd rather not be strapped to the back of something that can decide it doesn't want to do what I want it to do."

‘Your opinion is... sound, but unfounded, Dr. Watson.  I believe you lack proper knowledge on this particular topic –‘

‘- nor do you have hands-on experience. And that needs to be corrected,’ Sherlock finished.

She nodded. "Yup! Me an' Papa go ridins lots! Daddy go too. Maybe."

John laughed. "Yes, _maybe_. We'll have to see, sweetheart."

Grinning at Sherlock he shrugged. "Well it's an easy thing. I'm sure we'll have lots of pictures of Rosie as she grows up."

‘Evidently,’ he agreed.

‘I know that tone. Someone’s got Sherlock’s mannerisms and veiled manipulations down to a T,’ Mrs Holmes chuckled.

Sherlock looked affronted. ‘Oh now, don’t be like that, Sherlock, dear. You know what I meant.’

John chuckled. "That she does! Not surprised though with how much time they spend together. I believe he's helping Rosie with construction of a mind cottage."

Rosie nodded. "Yup! We finks like dis!" Scrambling over to the sofa she laid out mimicking Sherlock's thinking pose with hands under her nose.

Sherlock huffed stung at the implication of his mother, but a small smile was fleeting on his lips. Rosie really was an adorable child. She was John’s, how could she _not_ be? ‘Hm, yes. In a few years I am confident that she will have upgraded her cottage to a mansion,’ he said not bothering to hide his pride.

John chuckled. "I'm sure she will have it upgraded and ready by the time she starts nursery school. It'll be the finest mind mansion that any child ever had."

Rosie peeked an eye open at Sherlock to make certain she had the pose just right.

Greg chuckled. "She really does look like him when she does that."

Sherlock nodded surreptitiously at Rosie, knowing that she needed his confirmation that she was doing the Thinking right. ‘The finest Mind Mansion for the cleverest girl amongst her peers,’ he confirmed proudly. Registering Greg’s words he preened. ‘I assume I taught her well, didn’t I?’ he replied just as Mycroft interjected ‘I told you, did I not?’

 

            Rosie smiled wiggling a bit to get more settled. Giggling when Sultan jumped up by her she arranged him on his back so he could think too. John laughed. "Now I'm going to have THREE of them to deal with! What am I going to do?! I'm out-brained!"

‘You’ve always been, John,’ Sherlock teased ‘I suppose you could... how would you say that? Join the club?’

Laughing John lightly elbowed him in the ribs. "Oi! That's not a very nice thing to say to the man who keeps you fed and functioning!"

‘Hmpf. Eating is just like breathing to me. Irrelevant,’ he said but looked chastised at John’s soft reprimand and at his own retort.

John nodded reaching a hand up to brush a stray curl off Sherlock's forehead. "Yes, but eating and breathing are more than a bit essential to The Work and to you continuing to be alive and around for me and Rosie. We're just getting started, love. I'm not nearly ready to let you go again yet."

Sherlock cocked an eyebrow. ‘Yet? Do you intend to let me go, Doctor?’

John smiled stealing a kiss. "Not ever, not for any reason. You're mine and I'm yours and that's the end of it. The two, well, now, four, of us against the world."

Sherlock’s cheeks flushed. ‘Good. Isn’t it time for dinner? Mother, Father, do you need help for anything?’

John smiled going over and tickling Rosie who squealed delightedly.

Siger shook his head. "We have it under control, but thank you Sherlock."

 

            Greg chuckled. "It's cute that she wants to be so much like him."

‘It is adorable, is it not?’ Mrs Holmes intoned.

‘You know what I think,’ Mycroft replied.

Siger smiled. "Well they say imitation is the sincerest form of flattery."

‘And we all know that Sherlock takes very well to being flattered,’ she agreed.

Greg nodded. "I think I follow your thinking, but how?! I mean…"

‘Science, Gregory. I don’t want to bore you with the details, but it _is_ possible. There has been abundant research and several children were born of the results of these researches,’ he said, keeping his voice low so as not to attract Sherlock or John’s attention.

 Greg sighed. "Christ. And I'm still trying to wrap my head around Dolly the cloned sheep... You're going to explain the hows of all this later."

Mycroft shook his head in bafflement. ‘I fail to see how any of it is in any way difficult to understand. I will explain this possibility to you later. However, I’m not certain how it will be of any use to you. And since this… area is still secret, I would ask you to keep quiet about it.’

"I'm not breathing a word of this to either of them. But I think they'd be pleased by it. YOU may not think it's hard to understand, but I do. I know there's all sorts of DNA research and stuff going on but that's a bit beyond my basic biology classes. Forensics I can wrap my head around, this sort of more theoretical thing... A bit harder."

‘Oh, they will be informed. When I can come with proof of it. No sense in misinformation. That’s for the newspaper,’ he scoffed. ‘Don’t undermine yourself, Gregory. I will explain it to you, but I promise there is nothing difficult in it.’

"If you say so." Greg chuckled. "Seems like it would be."

 

            Siger smiled watching Rosie. "She reminds me so much of Sherlock at that age. At least she doesn't seem to have any of the childhood ailments that seemed to plague Sherlock."

Mrs Holmes smiled, putting an arm around her husband’s waist, as she observed her grand-daughter. ‘As Gregory said earlier, she does spend an incredible amount of time with Sherlock. I’m sure John or the mother gave her a strong immune system.’

He nodded. "And likely with John being a doctor she's exposed to small amounts of all sorts of things. Not enough to make her sick, but enough to boost her immunity. I fear her mother will always be somewhat of a question mark."

‘It does sound quite logical, yes. As for the mother, well. Given that she shot our boy... I can’t say that I’m sorry that she passed.’

He nodded. "Not sorry to see her go, I'm afraid. Seems everyone is better for it."

 

 

            Unsure of what he could do, Sherlock sat silently, observing the room before him.

All of them were terribly happy, smiling, talking to each other, the atmosphere was warm – and becoming warmer by the second. He could hardly think or focus much, a lot of his energy having been used up in interacting with others for the past few days. Even if most of them were family he still needed time to be on his own.

‘Excuse me,’ he said flatly as he left the room to head up to his childhood bedroom where he would find solace in playing his violin.

Mrs Holmes exchanged a look with Siger. It had been a long time since Sherlock had been in _this_ state, but Mycroft’s outburst the day before as well as all the emotions of the Christmas period were bound to have an effect on him sooner or later.

John smiled slightly. "Come on Rosie, love, I think Papa could use an appreciative audience and I think you could probably use a little bit of a rest, and Sultan too, before dinner."

 

            Greg watched Sherlock with a slightly worried frown. "You sure he's gonna be ok? It's been a while since I've seen him like this."

Mycroft frowned when his brother excused himself. Certain things never changed – and feeling out of his depths to help him was one of them. However, there was no need to have Gregory worry as well. ‘I’m confident he will. Doctor Watson is endlessly vigilant when it comes to my brother. Besides,’ he added as a sad, rapid melody fell from Sherlock’s violin, ‘music soothes the raging heart. Sherlock will be fine.’

Greg nodded. "I'm sure he will. Doesn't mean I'm not gonna be a bit worried about him. Glad he's got John to steady him."

‘Try not to worry too much. There is no need for that. It certainly won’t impede the strength of his anxiety. Doctor Watson – John – will help him, as well he should,’ Mycroft replied soothingly.

Greg nodded giving Mycroft's cheek a nuzzle. "He's been much better since John and Rosie moved in. It's been a long time since I've seen him so stable and focused."

‘He is, isn’t he? Caring does seem to be an advantage after all.’

Greg smiled. "Seems it might be an advantage for you too."

‘Hm, yes. To be more precise, caring _for you_ is an advantage,’ he acquiesced in a lower register. God forbid either of his parents heard him confess to having romantic feelings. Seeing them displayed was one thing but hearing – who was he trying to fool? The impregnable fortress he had spent years building around himself had started melting when he’d met Gregory for the first time.

Greg smiled laying a gentle hand on Mycroft's chest. "Don't worry, I won't tell anyone that you're really a big softie in an exquisite suit. You're becoming a little less of the Iceman."

‘I dare hope that I still am. In the public eye, obviously.  In your company... I decidedly am not.’

Greg laughed. "I doubt anyone who doesn't know you as well as I do would ever guess."

‘Good. Since no one knows me as well as you do nor ever will… It is fair of me to assume that no one will guess that.’

"Maybe Ant. I think she might be catching on, but I think your secret's safe enough with her too." Greg chuckled. "And just so you know, Anderson is bloody _terrified_ of her."

‘Yes, Anthea is the epitome of discretion. Even if I do hope she doesn’t know... just how much. Terrified of her? This barely surprises me, but how so? I know she enjoys a little ‘'gossip'’ from time to time.’

"I don't think she completely knows but she's thanked me for bringing you lunch or insisting you leave for dinner or for the evening. Apparently you're easier to work for now. And I think she told Anderson that if he even thought of laying a finger on her she could remove several parts of his anatomy and proceeded to explain just how in graphic detail."

‘Oh. You’ve improved more than my attitude towards work, Gregory.  I wouldn’t think this particular threat was so frightening, especially to a man on the police force. Can’t everyone do that?’

Greg laughed softly. "Well we might brag about it but I doubt Anderson actually could. And apparently he is certain that Anthea could and would do it with very little hesitation."

‘Of course, with proper reason, if the situation absolutely warrants it. I imagine that he’s not only terrified of Anthea, however. That she would instruct your Sargent Donovan as well proves even more probable.’ The start of a smirk had formed on his lips.

Greg shrugged with a smile. "Well Donovan intimidates him. He even hears Anthea's name and he's ready to hide out."

‘I will not fail to mention this to Anthea, then. Although hiding would not help anyone against my resources,’ he chuckled darkly. ‘Besides, as someone working for Scotland Yard he ought to know that he who hides is guilty 83% of the time.’

Greg snorted a laugh. "Oh I don't dare let him near Mrs. Hudson. She'd tear him apart for the things he's said about Sherlock."

‘Mrs Hudson is a fiery landlady. Quite the impressive one, too,’ he agreed, remembering the words she had had with him just a few months before.

Greg snickered a bit. "Mm more than a bit impressive. 'Just kept the books' my arse. I still think she's got her knitting needles in something. Don't worry, I've been putting in more than a few good words for you. She's coming around."

Mycroft huffed, offended that Gregory would assume he was feeling anything remotely close to uneasiness towards his brother’s landlady. ‘She does not intimidate me. However, I appreciate the sentiment.’

Greg smiled. "Trust me, you do not want to be on her bad side. She's warming up to you."

‘I am indebted to you, Gregory. My knight in shining armour,’ he teased.

 

            Siger smiled slightly. "I think John has the right idea. Having Rosie as an audience in need of something calming to help her get to sleep will be good."

‘John knows how to take care of his daughter - and our boy. It’s obvious they both need to distance themselves and calm down a bit. It’ll do both of them wonders. Well. I’m sure John needs it, too. Lord knows dealing with Sherlock can be... tiring.’

Siger nodded. "I'm sure having John and Rosie there will help quite a bit. John's as steady as they come and it seems almost impossible not to be cheered by Rosie's presence."

Mrs Holmes nodded, busying herself with placing a tablerunner and candles on the table as well as different types of glasses. She was dimly aware that she was doing too much and that it was out of character but she could not find the strength to stop before she had finished. She exhaled and put her hand on Siger’s forearm. ‘Yes, I think you are right. Rosie is a treasure that brings light to us all. Nobody can resist her smiles.’

Siger nodded rubbing her back soothingly. "It's been proven impossible. I well remember our boys at that age. Always going full out until they just stopped completely."

‘Have they stopped being that way?’ she countered, a small smile on her lips.

Chuckling he nodded. "The more things change the more they stay the same."

‘It would seem so, Siger. Change seems to have been good for Sherlock as of late, wouldn’t you agree?’

He nodded. "It's been very good for him. It's good to see him focussed on something other than the work."

‘A family of his own. That’s what he always needed. We have John to thank for that, even if took them quite some time to get themselves sorted. I thought it would never happen and now _both_ our sons have found love and happiness,’ she clapped her hands over her chest.

Siger smiled kissing the top of her head gently. "Mm no need to rush them. We've always said so long as they're happy and well, that's the only thing that really mattered. And it seems they're both doing quite well."

‘They _are_ , yes. I am not rushing them, dear. Am I?’ she frowned, her tone one of concern.

Cupping her face in his hands he chuckled softly before kissing her gently. "Not at all, Poppy, not at all. It seems now that we'll have to call in advance and let them know when we'll be in town. Wouldn't do at all just to show up unannounced and interrupt anything."

She chuckled. ‘We do that already. Mycroft’s busy schedule made it mandatory. You are right, interrupting anything... I’d hate for that to happen. They’ve lost enough time as it is.’ She moved a bit around the table, making sure that everything on the table was level. ‘However we have an ironclad reason to visit. Several ones, really.’

He nodded tweaking the flower arrangement slightly. "Several very good ones. I'm sure we'll find plenty of excuses to visit out boys and Rosie."

‘First outing in the city with her grandparents, first musical theatre experience, first visit to the zoo, to lush gardens… Yes, there will be a lot of opportunities.’

"First ride on the carousel. First trip to toy stores. We'll thoroughly spoil her. Just as she deserves." He smiled and she smiled back, acquiescing. ‘Sherlock has stopped playing. I think he’s feeling better now. They should be back soon.’

He nodded. "I'm sure he's feeling much better now. John seems to know just what to do to help. He never pushes Sherlock, just lets him know he's loved."

‘Yes, he does now,’ she replied a little bitterly. ‘I shouldn’t mention it but really these were not... happy times in the slightest. Evidently it’s got much better.’

"Now, now dear. I think John's always meant well. His heart's often been in the right place. He's had a difficult road but they're helping each other."

‘I know. What’s past is past and I too should be moving forward. I’ve no idea what set me backwards jut now. Ha! I think they’re coming back,’ she said, grabbing for a plate of hors d’oeuvre.

He smiled. "Just keep telling yourself that John loves him and he loves John. That is what matters. He's happy. Truly happy. And Rosie is very good for him."

‘I know that, Siger. Of course I do. Anyone can see he’s radiating happiness when John’s here. Fatherhood suits him.'

 

***

 

            Carrying Rosie upstairs with Sultan tagging behind he quietly entered the room. Tucking Rosie in the bed he put his finger to his lips. Sitting by her he stroked her hair slowly.

Violin tucked underneath his chin, eyes closed, Sherlock coaxed the start of a melody, expressing the erratic feelings running inside him. He did not focus on his breathing or on the placement of his fingers as years of practise had made it automatic. The feelings raging inside him had threatened to take over and were now being exorcised by the bow, coming as fast, plaintive notes tumbling like swift snowflakes – in appearance light but heavy and suffocating.

After long minutes of playing his attention had become wider. From centred on himself and his emotions he was now aware of shifts in the space around him and registered a calm and steady presence, and another still bristling with energy. John had come upstairs with Rosie, then. He was not alone. He never would be again. There would always be someone at his side. The notes from his violin slowed, adopting a more precise pattern, though their intensity had not diminished.

John smiled watching Rosie as she fought sleep tucked snugly in bed with a warm puppy at her side and listening to Sherlock play was doing a good job of making her more sleepy. Stroking her hair he watched Sherlock taking note of the slight relaxation of his posture.

Aware that he had the appreciative audience of John and Rosie grounded him even more. His work on the chords was more deliberate, had more purpose. He played more slowly, delicately, lovingly. The raging feelings inside him had abated. His stiff back had become more relaxed and his breathing less stilted. He opened his eyes, settling on John, then on Rosie who was half asleep. He smiled tenderly but didn’t utter a word as he continued playing until Rosie’s eyes closed shut and her breathing, as well as his, evened out.

 

            John smiled voice barely a whisper as he continued to stroke Rosie's soft curls. "That was beautiful love. Put her right out. Figured she needed a bit of a nap before dinner or else she might get cranky and have one of her melt downs. She loves hearing and watching you play." Smiling softly he got up sliding his arms around Sherlock. "You ok?"

Nodding, he lowered his arms, taking both bow and violin in the same hand to touch John’s arm. ‘Better. I needed a bit of time.’ He turned around, his arm still on John’s. ‘Didn’t mean to worry you.’ He let go of John’s arm and gently took a step back to put both bow and violin back into their case.

John smiled. "All the family togetherness a bit much?" He nodded. "I understand. Thought maybe having me and Rosie here might help. Wasn't too worried. Just concerned. Glad you're feeling better."

‘John, there’s something,’ he started, waving in the direction of his bag. ‘Wait?’

Smiling John nodded. "Not going anywhere right now."

‘You did help. Obviously,’ he said, the calmness that had descended on him a moment ago almost gone. Restless, fingers shaking, he looked into his bag and retrieved a small package.  He closed his eyes briefly and turned around to meet John.

John smiled softly. "It's ok love. Whatever it is, I'm going to love it because it's from you." He gently placed his hands over Sherlock's.

Sherlock was grateful for John’s presence to be so reassuring. ‘Well then. My dear John. I hope it’s not… that you’ll find this extra present satisfactory,’ he said, his breath catching in his throat. ‘Open it?’

Smiling softly John carefully unwrapped the gift. "Oh... Oh... Sherlock… I don't know what to say… It's wonderful… The detail is incredible. Thank you." Holding it carefully he kissed Sherlock softly.

‘I hoped you would like it. I had it commissioned a month ago. It took some time to explain what precisely needed to be in the snow globe, but it seems he understood, in the end.’

"Sherlock, I don't know what to say. It's beautiful. I'm amazed at all the tiny details. It's the most thoughtful gift anyone's ever got me."

‘Don’t say anything. The details… I did bring him a photograph of the living room, as well as one of you and I so he could make the details properly. Where will you put it?’

Smiling he stroked Sherlock's cheek. "I think it'll go on the mantle where we can always see it. And it'll be safe and out of the reach of Rosie and Sultan's escapades."

‘A wise decision. In that case I will straighten things up there. It wouldn’t do if there was no room for it.’

John smiled. "On the other end of the mantle from Billy. I think the two will be perfect together."

‘On the other – that’s where I put the letters. If you want it to be for everyone to see I rather think that you should aim for the middle.’

"Middle it is." He nodded kissing Sherlock softly. "And you can keep stabbing mail to the mantle whenever you like." Chuckling he gently ran his hands over Sherlock's chest.

He took John’s hands in his and pressed their foreheads together. ‘Didn’t want it to risk breaking once it was out of its package so I got a box to transport it.’ He kissed his knuckles. ‘Thank you, John,’ he declared seriously.

John stroked his cheek gently. "I love you too. Always."

Sherlock closed his eyes and squeezed John’s hands. He breathed in softly.

            ‘We should return downstairs. I will go wake her up before we start the main course. Mother always cooks so much.’

John smiled softly. "I'm sure the nap will keep her in a good mood until she crashes later."

‘She’s probably still experiencing the high of last night’s treat. I’ve no doubt she will be in a good mood. An agitated good mood, I imagine, given all the sugar her grandmother has given her so far, but a good mood nonetheless,’ he said as he opened the door and descended the stairs.

John chuckled following him after making sure Rosie and Sultan were still tucked in and sleeping peacefully. "She's managing to handle her sugar high very well. I was a bit worried she'd become an unholy terror with so much sugar. She's done very well."

‘She has,’ he acquiesced. ‘I suspect being at her grandparents’ helped. You certainly find her to be quite challenging at home sometimes, he teased.

 

***

 

‘Now, Sherlock, John, take a seat, dinner is served,’ Mrs Holmes told them as they entered the room. Sherlock made his way to the table and pulled a chair for John, waiting for him to sit.

John kissed Sherlock's cheek. "Thank you, love. And I will take all the help I can get. Rosie and I are very lucky to have so many people helping me."

‘I’m the lucky one,’ he whispered.

Siger chuckled warmly. "It's nice having all of you visit. Usually she doesn't feed me this well." He teased.

‘Now, Father, where do you think my interest in good food comes from?’ Mycroft chuckled.

‘Yes, well. Enjoy it while it lasts, then, mister,’ she elbowed him. ‘But it _is_ nice to have you all here. Next time _we_ ’ll come visit. Probably _before_ Christmas.’

‘Visiting?’ the two brothers repeated. Mycroft was taken by surprise – although not overly surprised by their parents’ statement – and Sherlock as well, but the latter could hardly hide his shock. ‘Why?’ he asked.

Laughing warmly Siger kissed her cheek resting his arm across the back of her chair and lightly stroking her arm. "Oh I'm sure we'll be to London more now. We want to take Rosie to the zoo and the parks and museums and shopping. And to see you four too, of course."

‘Dare I hope that Rosie won’t be the only one happy to see us? Help yourself to these. Siger took one earlier and another one in the next five minutes. I’m sure they’re excellent,’ she said holding a plate of small pies.

Greg smiled. "Looks like I'll have to put my hours of watching cooking shows to use. Tempt you to come home and not work so much."

‘It would be a very good idea to tempt me home. You do know there is another way to achieve this goal,’ he whispered, snaking a hand on Gregory’s thigh. ‘Are there any museums in particular you would wish to visit?’

John kissed Sherlock’s cheek gently squeezing his knee under the table. "I'm sure Rosie will be thrilled to have you visit as often as you like."

‘Shopping.’ Sherlock who despised repetitions had done so twice in less than two minutes. ‘As long as you don’t expect me to come shopping as well, or do anything that tourists are so unbelievably fond of, I don’t see why you shouldn’t come.’

John squeezed Sherlock's knee again. A bit harder this time as a reminder to be polite. "I'm sure we'll be able to go along now and then. Rosie would love having everyone along and have a family outing."

Sherlock smiled despite John’s silent reprimand. His mother smiled back. ‘Yes, I’m sure we will.’ He whispered to John ‘Do I _really_ need to be obvious? Mother and Father _know_ I was not being as rude as you might think I was.’

John sighed kissing his cheek gently. "Sorry, love. It's sometimes a bit hard to know the difference," he chuckled softly.

Sherlock shook his head. ‘It’s fine. Bound to happen. I’m trying, you know. Eat,’ he added as he took the plate John had ignored. ‘They’re excellent.’

John smiled nudging Sherlock's cheek affectionately. "I know you're trying. I'll make it up to you later," he murmured softly with a grin. Taking a bite of the small pie he nodded. "These are delicious. Rosie will love them."

He acquiesced and put his hand over John’s, slowly drawing circles. He was becoming more and more tactile by the minute. ‘I’m sure she will. She is a bit like her uncle, loving any cooking that comes from her Grand-mère’s oven. Rightly so,’ he said as he himself took a bite out of John’s pie.

John chuckled softly. "Well who can blame her? These pies are one of the best thing I've had in a very long time. Absolutely delicious. Nothing better than a home cooked meal."

‘John. Are you asking me to – Very well. Anything to please you. But really, John? Nothing?’

 

 

 

Siger nodded taking another one off the plate. "As with every thing she makes they're incredible."

‘Not that anyone could doubt it, Mother did give Sherlock her idea that being modest was superfluous. They _are_ delicious,’ Mycroft helped himself to several ones. Sherlock frowned. Mrs Holmes didn’t. ‘It is. I’m glad to see you’re as interested in my cooking as you’ve always been,’ she commented, chuckling over her son’s appetite.

Greg nodded. "I've heard good things about several of the children's museums. We usually donate to a few of them around the holidays. One of the few PR things I don't mind."

‘Indeed. You have my number,’ Mycroft told his parents. ‘If you’d rather avoid the affluence,’ he precised before proceeding to eating the pies he had just taken off the plate. He put his hand higher on Gregory’s thigh and squeezed it lightly, looking at him mischievously.

 

Siger smiled at Greg. "Feel free to call any time for cooking tips. She enjoys helping others cook."

‘That I do. Maybe even more than cooking. At least in equal measure and if it actually gets Mycroft to leave his office more often...’

Greg nodded. "I will definitely keep that in mind. I'll make sure Mycroft actually eats and eats well." Winking teasingly at Mycroft he nodded. "Very well."

‘You know firsthand I am not one to forego food, Gregory. Especially not good food. The food you give me is already very good and I am confident it can only become better.’

Siger nodded. "And whenever you've got a free weekend you're more than welcome to come for a visit and some cooking lessons. We'd be happy to have you. Even happier if you can manage to bring Mycroft."

‘A world class cook, but whose talent has not been recognised. Which is all the better for you, Myc, is it not?’ Mrs Holmes replied. ‘I will hold you on to that, Gregory. We both will.’

Greg smiled. "I think I'll take you up on that offer. Not often I get the offer of cooking lessons from a world class cook." He leaned into Mycroft a bit. "I'll try. I'm beginning to figure out what you like and what you don't like. I'm afraid you're still not going to get me to like sushi. At least not yet."

‘Nonsense. You are doing very well. What’s not to like about sushi? Raw, refined foo – Oh. You will. I will show you.’

Kissing her temple Siger nodded. "You'll be learning from one of the best cooks in all of England. Quite possibly the world."

‘Now don’t start, Siger. I know when you’re mocking me. Need I remind you what you said earlier?’ Her voice was stern.

"I will always swear that you are one of the best cooks in England and very likely the world." Siger nodded. "That's not going to change."

She gave him a lingering stare, assessing how truthful he was being, before she rolled her eyes. ‘I hope not, dear. Pass me the wine, would you ?’

"I'm always honest when it comes to your delicious cooking, poppy." He kissed her cheek pouring her a glass of wine.

‘Thank you, dear,’ she smiled.

 

Greg chuckled. "Sorry. Raw fish and I don't get along. I prefer my food cooked thank you very much. But, I'm willing to try to learn to like it."

‘Some like it hot,’ he agreed. ‘I am glad you’re willing to try to like it. It will not prove a disappointment to you.’

Greg smiled. "Always up for a new adventure so long as it's with you. I'm sure I'll find something I like so we can both enjoy sushi."

‘Undoubtedly you will, Gregory. I am confident you will find it as much a feast as I do.’

"As long as I've got you, I have no doubt about it." He gave Mycroft's hand a squeeze.

‘I don’t intend on letting you go, Detective Inspector,’ he smiled. ‘I do, however, intend on taking you on many adventures, fish related or otherwise, provided you be amenable.’

Greg smiled ducking his head to hide the faint touch of colour to his cheeks from Mycroft's words. The things he was planning to do to him as soon as they were back in the comfort and privacy of Mycroft's posh town house...

 

            ‘I wish to propose a toast. To family,’ Mrs Holmes looked pointedly at Sherlock and John then at Mycroft and Gregory. ‘May it last long, and prosper.’

Greg nodded. "And very happy to be part of it too. It's been a real pleasure getting to know both of you and be here for Rosie's first Christmas."

John squeezed Sherlock's hand. "I just want to thank all of you for making this so wonderful for Rosie. And for me. It's been a long time since anywhere felt so much like home."

Siger nodded. "You are both welcome at any time. You don't even have to call ahead. Our door is always open."

‘And always will be. For all of you, emergency or not,’ Mrs Holmes chimed in. ‘Family is all we have in the end.’

Mycroft took Gregory’s hand from underneath the table in his and kissed it before raising his glass as well. ‘To family, made by blood or by choice. To those who matter the most,’ he looked at everyone around the table. ‘Thank you.’

‘To family,’ Sherlock agreed, unprepared as he was to voice his thoughts on the matter. He squeezed John’s hand back, raised his glass and looked at Mycroft and Gregory then at his parents before he drank down his glass. ‘Speaking of family, I am going to wake her ladyship,’ Sherlock excused himself.

John chuckled softly. "Let me know if you need backup. I'm sure she and Sultan both will be hungry and more than ready to eat."

Sherlock threw him a small smile. ‘Oh, I doubt I will. They’ll be so eager to come to dinner that they’ll be downstairs before you know it,’ he winked.

 

            Greg squeezed his hand firmly. "I couldn't have chosen a better family. I'm incredibly bloody lucky."   
  
John nodded. "My sentiments exactly."

"We're more than happy to have both of you, as well as Rosie and Sultan as part of the family. As usual, my lovely wife is absolutely correct."

‘Of course I am. You are, too, Siger, my dear. Nothing could have made us happier than to have you added to the family and making our boys so happy.’

Mycroft remained silent but drew closer to Gregory, suddenly turned mute and caught in his thoughts.

Greg slipped an arm around Mycroft's shoulders gently rubbed his arm. "Deep breaths now, love. Come on."

Watching them closely Siger gently touched his wife's hand with a slight nod in their direction. Mycroft's moments of panic were more subtle than Sherlock's, but no less intense.

He clutched Gregory’s hand, focussing on the feel of his touch and the soft calm of his voice, his own breathing evening out after a minute. ‘Apologies. I was thinking that I could not be happier to have you in my life, Gregory.’

Greg smiled slightly with a bit of a shrug. "I've got years of practice getting people calmed down. Just glad what I do and how I do it works well for you." 

‘I could not be happier that you both accepted him into the family so easily. I could not be happier for Sherlock, he is so... well, glowing, and that, Doctor Watson - John – is down to you and your little girl.’

John smiled at Mycroft. "She's incredibly fond of both of you. I hear endless chatter with both of your names mentioned frequently. And any trip to either of your offices is a treat for her."

            "Mycroft, your mother and I could not be happier to meet Greg and get to know him. He's exactly what you need." Siger nodded. "It's good that you have someone to rely on and that obviously cares for you a great deal. That makes him more than welcome in the family."

‘I fully agree with your father, Myc. Your lovely man brings you happiness, cares for you deeply, is always here for you and the feeling is quite obviously mutual. How could we _not_ welcome him into the family when he’s so evidently _yours_?’

‘Thank you, Gregory,’ he whispered. ‘I hope you know, John, that she is very dear to both Gregory and myself. Whenever, er, she wants to...’ he trailed off, silently asking for Gregory’s help with that one.

Greg smiled. "He means any time she'd like to visit it would help break up the monotony of the day and be a little ray of sunshine. She's always more than welcome to both our offices." 

"Thank you. Both of you. Sometimes she starts to get in a bit of a strop like Sherlock and I'm not sure what'll get her out of it. Usually a promise to visit one of you or Molly cheers her up." John chuckled softly, shaking his head.

‘More resemblance with Sherlock,’ Mycroft mumbled. ‘Let’s be thankful what cheers her up is not as grisly as what seems to cheer Sherlock up.’

"Yet." Greg smiled. "I bet it's only a matter of time."

Siger smiled. "Well what matters most is you know how to handle her moods. It's a good thing to distract her and get her mind on something else for a bit. You and Greg are both welcome additions to the Holmes family."

‘Distraction will work up to a point, however. But by then she should listen to reason,’ Mrs Holmes chuckled. ‘Welcome, and excellent additions, the both of you,’ she added.

 

            Rosie was just waking up snuggling into Sultan and talking to him softly as he licked her face.

Opening the door delicately – he knew it creaked. His parents had never oiled it in all the time they’d lived there – he let the light from the corridor in. He heard Rosie speaking and knew that it was better she acclimated her eyes to light progressively. ‘Hello there. Did you have a nice nap?’ he opened the door more widely, letting more light in and entered the room.

Smiling brightly she crawled out of the cozy blankets. "Papa! Sultan and me had good sleeps." Holding her arms up to him she giggled as Sultan playfully burrowed around under the blankets. "Up! Pwease."

He chuckled. ‘Yes, your Highness,’ he crouched next to the bed and gathered her in his arms. ‘Out you go, Sultan, come on. I’m going to turn the lights on now, darling. Are you ready to face them?’ He brushed her soft blond curls as she turned her head against his chest. ‘Now, darling, remember. Manners matter, and food is paramount to growing a healthy brain. Are we ready to go, then?’

Nuzzling into his chest she nodded with a yawn, not quite all the way awake yet. "Manners matter. Gonna get big brain like Papa." Sultan sat beside them wait waving excitedly.

‘Tired, still, darling? When your Daddy’s downstairs waiting for you to come join the family? And your Grand-mère is probably worrying there’ll be enough food for all of us – especially Uncle Mycroft.  Use your senses, then. Let the smells from the kitchen wake you up,’ he said as he started down the stairs, Sultan on his heels.

Sniffing she nodded. "Yummy. Grand-mère cook yummy stuff all th' times."

            Spotting John she smiled. "Hi Daddy!"

"Well there's my sleeping beauty. Did you have a nice nap? And Papa was very nice to carry you downstairs, wasn't he?" She nodded kissing Sherlock's cheek. "Love Papa. Sultan eat too?"

‘Papa shares the sentiment, darling. You know that,’ he ruffled her curls before bouncing her slightly as he turned her around so she’d face the room. He’d been told that facing the person one is talking to makes for better communication. ‘Of course, Sultan will eat as well. Not at the table with us. And not the same food,’ he said, as if he wouldn’t pass him some bits sometimes, unbeknownst to everyone else. Or so he thought. Rosie was none the wiser about any of it.

 

Rosie smiled waving at everyone. "I feed Sultan, Papa."

‘I believe Grand-père or Daddy could tell you exactly what he needs to eat. Or Grand-mère, since she knows everything,’ he added in a chuckle.

‘I don’t know everything, Sherlock, - ’

‘- You specialise.’

‘In a _considerate_ amount of fields, Mother, don’t be modest. Even _I_ can’t measure up to that.’ Sherlock snorted.

‘It was you, was it not, Mycroft, who implied that it was _me_ who lacked modesty?’

‘Did I? I don’t recall.’

John smiled. "I'm sure you know a little of everything and Sherlock's just behind getting more caught up every day."

Siger took Rosie in his arms kissing her cheek. "Now then my dear, what are good things you eat and like to eat?" She thought. "Chickns, roast beast, turkeys, cawworts, corn, salads, not mushy peas, stawberries, pears, cherries, booberries..."

He smiled. "Very good my dear. Young Sultan needs to eat those same things so he can grow big and strong and healthy. Mostly meat but he needs vegetables too. And fruit. Limited sweets. No chocolate, ever. It can make puppies very sick."

Rosie nodded. "No chocwate. Make puppy sick."

Tapping her nose he smiled. "Spot on. However he CAN lick your ice cream bowl so long as it isn't chocolate and he can also have a little peanut butter. It will make his coat nice and shiny."

Mrs Holmes nodded. ‘He needs the same kind of food as you do to become big and strong. And have a big brain,’ she added in a chuckle. ‘There’s another thing you must avoid: fried food. I know it tastes good but – well, too much fat is dangerous. You don’t want Sultan to fall ill. Tell me, Rosie. What will he eat tonight?’

Rosie smiled. "Sultan have roast beast, an' carrots, and some fruit, an' taters. No fried stuffs an' no chocolate. Make puppy sick." She looked to John and Sherlock for approval of the menu. John smiled. 'Good job sweetheart. I'm sure Sultan will love having that for dinner."

‘Excellent, Rosie. You’ll feed him after us, then. He has to learn that we are the alphas of his pack,’ he explained.

‘Nonsense,’ Mrs Holmes interjected. Come with me, Rosie, we’ll get a bowl ready for him. He’ll eat at the same time as us. I imagine you’ve found him a place to eat already, haven’t you?’

She nodded with a smile. "He eat with us so he won't be lonely? Not at table, but here?"

John smiled. "Well, I think we could maybe arrange that. At home, he can eat in the kitchen. We'll get his bowls all set up so he can get to them whenever he needs a drink or a snack. Puppies need snacks just like little girls."

Mrs Holmes nodded, a gentle smile on her face. ‘Yes, of course. He’ll eat in the same room as us so he doesn’t get lonely. You don’t want your friends to be lonely. That’s an intelligent reaction,’ she approved.

Sherlock rolled his eyes. ‘If _I_ had suggested that I would have been accused of being concerned with others’ feelings. And animals’ at that. You would have mocked me,’ he pouted. ‘”Just like little girls”? Did you just compare Rosie to a puppy?’

John smiled with a shrug. "Well one of my child development professors once said that there's very little difference between children and puppies. If they don't get attention for something good, they'll do something bad. Any attention is better than no attention."

Siger laid a gentle hand on Sherlock's shoulder. "With age comes wisdom, son. We made mistakes. Every parent does. We did what we thought was right at the time. Live and learn. We're sorry for the mistakes we made. There's no making up for them, but we can try and have a fresh start."

Sherlock sighed. ‘I was not... Father you know I think that you did very well, considering. From the echoes I heard, I was not really an easy child. That must have made rearing me difficult.’

His father chuckled. "Neither of you were easy but things that are easy are rarely fun or terribly rewarding. We couldn't be more proud of both of you. And pleased by your choices in careers, partners, and especially in how well you're doing raising Rosie. It's been a pleasure seeing you grow."

‘It seems doubtful Rosie would ever be starved of attention. Sherlock’s somewhat self-centred example notwithstanding, her charms alone are enough to have everyone under her thumb,’ Mycroft said, eyeing the main dish with eagerness.

Greg chuckled, serving Mycroft some of the herb crusted roast. "Sherlock can be incredibly selfless when he wants to be. And when it comes to Rosie, I know there's not anything he wouldn't do for her. She's got half the Yard wrapped around her little finger. It's practically a national holiday when Rosie comes for a visit."

‘So I’ve been told. It is difficult to see when one’s experience consists primarily of jibes, however, I’m certain you will agree. Yes, Mother, Sherlock and I will work on our issues. However I admit that when it comes to Rosie, Sherlock is… very involved. What does it say about London’s finest if they can be led by a toddler, I wonder,’ he chuckled. ‘Now that I think about it, I wonder what could be said about the government since we all but bow to her when she visits,’ he wondered, chewing on the roast.

‘Mycroft Holmes! Mind your manners, please. I certainly hope that the two of you will find a way to reconcile yourselves with the meaning of family and act like proper brothers.’

‘Certainly. We don’t want to upset Mother now, do we, Sherlock?’

Sherlock cast a dark glare to his brother, swiftly turned into an eye roll. ‘Of course we don’t.’ Turning to his father he added ‘In that case, Father, I am glad to have been an interesting child to raise.  And that you are proud of me. I hope I’m a satisfying partner, not too demanding,’ he added, placing a piece of the roast in John’s plate along with vegetables.

John smiled. "You keep things interesting, love. And I wouldn't have them any other way. You're doing an amazing job with Rosie. I love watching the two of you do science experiments or when you're sitting in your chair with her reading her a story. You're a very good father."

‘Good. Well. I had an excellent model when I was a child myself – and your own tolerant calm and patient self certainly helps. I’m glad you think so, but please don’t forgive that you bring the best in me, my dear.’

John smiled. "I think we bring out the best in each other. And I think we're bringing out the best in Rosie. She's been much happier since we came back to Baker Street. Her intelligence is growing by leaps and bounds with you there to feed her endless curiosity."

‘Yet another good reason for you to come back to me. We’ve all been happier since you made this sensible decision. I cannot thank you enough. I have been telling you for years that intellectual stimulation was always beneficial – and better use the brain to working on interesting subjects rather than being cluttered by useless trivia – or even worse: to be left to rot and be content to use it to its minimum capacity.’

John smiled. "And you keep her engaged, interested, and learning all the time. She's always so eager to tell me what new thing you two discovered. I couldn't ask for a better person to be raising her with." Leaning over he kissed Sherlock's cheek gently.

‘I don’t see why you would,’ he replied cheekily. ‘I’m perfect, brilliant and adorable,’ he stuck the tip of his tongue at John.

John smirked keeping his voice low. "If you're going to stick that thing out at me then you better plan on using it later."

Sherlock replied without missing a beat. ‘Who says I’m not?’ Locking his eyes to John’s he moved closer. ‘More... interesting than food,’ he said, moving the tip of his tongue over his top lip in a slow, deliberate move.

 

Greg chuckled. "She's a charmer. No doubt about that. I think everyone in the building knows her and they're very disappointed to learn that she's been there for a visit and they were off or out working a case. I'll have to come by with her sometime and watch all your government sorts fall all over themselves to see her. You know I'll do everything I can to help you and Sherlock mend things."

‘Yes, that would be most interesting to witness, I’m sure, although hardly a surprise. It was arresting to view Harry – a councillor to Her Majesty – on his knees playing with Rosie. He was convinced no one of importance could see him, otherwise he’d never – My point is, Gregory, as I’m sure you’ll have concluded yourself, if you ever come to my office with that particular endeavour in mind, do remember to make yourself discreet.

Greg smiled stroking Mycroft's cheek with the back of his hand. "Aren't I always discreet when I come by? Anthea usually knows when I'll be there and gets me in the building and to your office with a minimum of fuss. And if I don't get to see it myself then I'll just have to settle for watching the CC footage of it."

‘Of course you are, Gregory. I was not my intention to suggest that you weren’t. Obviously you could watch the interesting moments through the CC footage – I expect that you would prefer to see it as it happens, however.’

He grinned. "Bloody well right I would. A bit of something for me to think about later when I need a good laugh when someone's being a pompous pain in the arse as most government types are. With the exception of you."

Mycroft chuckled, a mischievous glint in his eyes. ‘Are you certain of this assertion, Gregory?’

‘You are lucky we only just came back and Rosie has not heard those delightful words, Gregory,’ Mrs Holmes called as both she and Rosie reappeared, Sultan in tow.

Greg grinned bashfully. "Yes ma'am, sorry ma'am. I'll try not to let it happen again. And yes, Myc, love, I'm sure. You can be insufferable sometimes, but I love you. I love you for it. It's part of who you are. When you are, I call you on it, and you change your behaviour. All works out in the end."

‘You don’t need to be so formal, Gregory,’ she said lightly. ‘I don’t mind, save for the innocent ears in the room. As long as you make sure it doesn’t repeat,’ she trailed off. ‘Let Sultan eat in peace, Rosie,’ she called to the little girl who was sitting on her knees next to her dog, watching him and encouraging him to eat. ‘Time for you to eat, too, darling’.

Greg nodded. "Yes ma'am. I promise to do my best." She nodded, his promise heard and acknowledged, before sitting next to Siger again, offering him a soft smile.

‘I would be remiss not to amend my behaviour if I offend or displease you, Gregory. You are… of too grand importance to me to risk causing any rift between us that would lead to losing you.’

Greg squeezed Mycroft's hand in a reassuring gesture. "As long as you promise to talk to me about things. I'm no mind reader. We can work through just about anything if we talk it out."

‘I do, Gregory. I think I’d like you to visit more often.’

Greg smiled, eyes crinkling. "I'd like that too. We can try for a standing lunch date when our schedules allow."

‘An excellent idea. I will have a word with Anthea when we get back into town. She’ll make arrangements as well as replenish certain items, I imagine,’ he added in an afterthought.

Greg smiled. "Ant is a saint. She deserves a hell of a raise for everything she does. A true saint."

‘Don’t you go telling her so. She is a good and dedicated assistant, I doubt she’d rebel but I think it’s best to avoid it.’

Greg chuckled. "She enjoys her work and enjoys working for you. She wouldn't trade it for anything. I wouldn't worry about her rebelling."

‘I certainly did not say I was worried, Gregory. I was merely stating that there was no need to give in into that sort of praising,’ he helped himself to another serving of the delicious roast his mother had cooked.

"There's always a need to praise someone who consistently goes above and beyond the call of duty. It would mean a lot to her." Greg smiled.

‘You might have a point,’ Mycroft conceded.

 

Rosie sighed reluctant to leave Sultan. Climbing up in John's lap she watched. He stroked her hair. "It's ok sweetheart. See, he's eating every bite. Why don't you see if you can get Papa to eat some." If Rosie could coax Sherlock to eat it was a sure bet she'd eat too.

He rolled his eyes at John’s remark. ‘I’ve eaten Mother’s nibbles, John. May be hungry for dessert later provided you give it to me. What?’

John's breath hitched. "There are things I'd say but I'd rather not get my hide lashed by your mother... I'm going to remember this for later..."

‘Oh. Oh!’ Realisation dawned on him. ‘I stand by what I said,’ he confirmed, his voice low. ‘I will do my best to eat so Rosie eats. I can’t make any promises,’ he announced, grabbing his fork, lacking his usual determination.

Rosie poked at the food on her plate looking at Sherlock's. "Papa no eat, I no eat." Crossing her arms she huffed sitting back in her chair.

Siger chuckled. "And the battle of wills has begun. I'm rather thankful we don't have to go through all that again. We get to dote on Rosie and spoil her without worrying over the million and one little things of parenting."

‘Ah yes. We do keep on worrying for our own children even as they’ve reached adulthood, have careers that sustain their interests and each a partner who loves them, however. Parenting did not stop when they left home, no matter how much they keep telling us not to worry.’

"Mm likely the sign of good parents that we still worry over our boys. Do you think Rosie's all right? She looks a bit flushed."

‘I would say we are,’ she agreed. ‘A bit flushed and a little too quiet for my taste. I’d wager she might be coming down with something but I doubt John wouldn't be able to deal with it.’ She looked at her closely then stood up and walked to the kitchen counter, where she unhooked a pot in which she put some milk to warm over the stove. If Rosie was coming down with something, she might need to sleep and warm milk had always helped Sherlock when he was her age.

Glancing over at Rosie Greg shook his head slightly. "Rosie's not herself... Think she's ok?" Rosie poked at her food listlessly cuddling into John.

‘‘Rosie does seem – slower than usual. I wouldn’t worry over it, her father’s a doctor, after all.’

John nodded as Sherlock brought another forkful of potatoes to his mouth. "Thank you, love. If she thinks she's making you eat then she'll eat. I think the day's just been a bit much for her."

‘Hm. Too many emotions, probably,’ he concurred, sighing as he pulled his fork up to his mouth, a tiny bit of meat on it. He made a show of making sure Rosie would see him, praying she’d start eating so he could drop the act.

John shrugged. "Well whatever the case may be I'm just happy if she eats a bit of something. Just keep taking little bites so she thinks it's working. She takes her job of making you eat very seriously." He stroked Rosie's curls frowning a bit as he gently pressed his hand to her forehead. It was probably nothing. She was likely still warm from being asleep. "Good job, love. Look how well Papa's eating. You help him so much."

Sherlock rolled his eyes. ‘Her job of making me eat,’ he mumbled under his breath. ‘I do eat,’ he said as he picked a lone bean on his fork. It was unlike Rosie to be so quiet at the table, he noted as he saw John assess her body temperature and looked at him inquisitively.

"Probably just still warm from her nap is all. And she thinks it's her job. If it gets her to eat fine."

‘I know, I know. I’ll have to explain to her that adults and children do these things differently. That _I_ do this according to my own schedule. I’ll insist that she needs to eat and sustain her body, obviously,’ he added before John could give this very argument.

‘Warm from her nap, really, John? She seems a little too... out of it,’ Sherlock noted, indicating her weak posture and lack of enthusiasm.

"Wishful thinking." John sighed settling Rosie in his lap. "Do you feel ok sweetheart?" Shaking her head she cuddled into him. "It's ok. Daddy and Papa will take care of you. Sherlock, there's a bottle of liquid medicine in my bag if you could get it."

Rosie shook her head. "No! Papa no go!"

Greg got up carefully. "I'll get it. You two just make her feel better."

Sherlock dropped the fork he’d been holding, moving slowly as he took in the sight of Rosie settled in her Daddy’s lap. ‘Course,’ he said, starting to get up from the chair he’d been sitting on when his movement was cut short by Rosie’s protest. His eyes grew wide at the alarm in her voice. Greg, bless him, had offered to get what John had asked for so they could stay with her. ‘Thank you, Greg. Don’t worry, Princess, I’m not going anywhere. Uncle Greg is going to get your medicine. Neither Daddy nor I are leaving,’ he said, aiming at a reassuring tone, as he smoothed her hair. He locked eyes with John. _Don’t panic,_ he told himself. He inhaled and exhaled slowly, counting his breaths.

John hummed softly gently rocking Rosie as he kissed the top of her head. "It's ok. Papa and I are here. We'll get the medicine in you and you'll feel better in no time."

‘We’re here, darling, it’s okay.’

Greg returned with the bottle giving Rosie's little hand a squeeze. "That's my best girl."

‘Uncle Greg’s brought you your medicine so we could stay with you.’

‘There is nothing to be alarmed about, Rosie,’ Mycroft said in a voice he wanted to be even and soothing but revealed a thinly veiled fear.

‘I know that’s not medicine,’ Mrs Holmes said as she came back. ‘Warm milk with honey always helped your Papa to feel better when he was little,’ she explained in a calming voice as she put the glass on the table.

Rosie snuggled into John rubbing her face against his jumper and all but ignoring everything. John rubbed her back soothingly.

"Want to have a sip of milk? It's got honey in it. You like honey." Coaxing her to take a tiny sip he nodded. "Good. Now can you take your medicine for me? It's strawberry."

Shaking her head she pushed his hand away. "No. Yucky medsin."

‘Rosie darling, try and think of it as sweets in liquid form. Sweets make you feel better, don’t they?’ Sherlock tried.

‘Even your Papa had to take some of it. Milk and honey were not enough even if they helped.’

Pouting she pushed the little plastic cup toward Sherlock. "Papa taste. No lyins. Yucky stuffs."

John tried not to smile. "I promise it tastes good. Like real strawberries. If Papa says it tastes good, will you take some? Just a sip. Then you can have some more milk."

Thinking it over she shrugged coughing a bit.

‘Fine, give it here. You know I wouldn’t lie, Rosie,’ he held the cup to his mouth and pretended to take a sip. ‘Well, it’s not the best thing I’ve ever tasted but it’s not bad. Try it, Rosie.’

She gave him a look. "Drink it Papa. You no drink non."

John tried not to snicker. "Do you want me to try it sweetheart? I've tasted it plenty of times."

Shaking her head she nudged Sherlock's leg with her foot. "Papa taste."

As worried as Greg was he hid a smile behind his hand. Apparently Rosie was going to have stubbornness in spades.

Sherlock rolled his eyes but did as Rosie bid him. Taking a tiny sip of it, he looked at his mother who rolled her own eyes at him, shaking her head. ‘Not a child anymore, but he still wants milk and honey after the medicine. Some things never change.’

‘Indeed. I stand by what I told you, Rosie. It isn’t as good as chocolate – oh, can we have chocolate, John? - but it’s not too terrible. The texture is a little strange but there are worse things than that. Much weirder. Try it, Rosie. You’ll feel better, and we’ll have honeyed milk after.’

"An' chowate?" She looked up at John.

Nodding he kissed her warm cheek. "And chocolate with your honey milk. I'm sure it'll make you feel much better. After you have your milk and chocolate we'll take a nice bath and tuck you into bed. You and Sultan can sleep with me and Papa tonight."

Holding the cup for her he watched as she drank the medicine. Scrunching her nose she looked at Sherlock. "It ok. Milk pease."

Sherlock nodded as she drank the medicine. ‘I told you it was. Thank you for taking it, Rosie. Here’s your glass. Mother, where is mine?’

‘Who said parenting was ever over when the child becomes an adult? Clearly you’ve not been informed, young man,’ she tutted.

‘Yet you carry on indulging me,’ Sherlock retorted playfully. ‘Thank you,’ he said as he took the glass of warm milk.

Siger smiled bringing in a box of chocolates. "Rosie, these are very special chocolates. I just started making them. There's something very special inside. Try one and you can tell me."

Placing one in her mouth she smiled a bit. "Honey."

He nodded. "Very good my dear. Have a couple more with your milk."

Sherlock’s eyes lit up when Rosie announced the correct special ingredient. He almost swiftly grabbed the whole box to keep to himself and prevent Mycroft to have any of them but he reined himself and this stupid five-year-old-Sherlock impulse and waited till Rosie had taken two more. He lifted his eyes to his father, silently asking if he could have those too and not the plain normal chocolates sold everywhere.

Mycroft had seen his little brother’s impulse and snickered – it was funny and he was certain that even Sherlock would find it so as well, if he were not still panicky about Rosie’s sickness. Indulging in sweets to have a sugar high had always helped him to cope under stressful situations.  ‘If he can have some of these, I wouldn’t mind one myself.’

John smiled stroking Rosie's hair. "See, you took your medicine and you got lovely special treats. "What do you need to say?"

She blinked tiredly, eyes a bit glassy and overly bright. "Fank you. Yummy."

Siger smiled. "You're very welcome, Rosie. And yes, Sherlock, you may have those. I have another tray of them ready for everyone else to share."

Sherlock passed his fingers through Rosie’s hair. ‘That’s my girl. Brave as your Daddy. You’re not going to let a stupid bug bring you down,’ he complimented kissing her faintly sweaty forehead. ‘Thank you, Father.’ He met Mycroft’s eyes and grinned at the look of expectation on his face. Mycroft lifted an eyebrow. ‘You can talk, Sherlock.’

‘I didn’t say a thing.’

‘Bickering over sweets. You two should be careful not to fall back into bad habits,’ Mrs Holmes chided in a warning tone.

John smiled. "We're very proud of you, Rosie. You did so good taking your medicine. We're so proud of you." He smoothed her hair gently. "And I'm so glad that Papa and Uncle Mycroft are going to be very nice and share the chocolates with each other. And I bet that whenever your Grandpa comes to visit you, he'll bring you more."

Violet chuckled at that. ‘Oh, you can be certain of it, John. He definitely will.’

‘We are, Doctor Wats- John. I assure you. No need to add more tension to an already-’ He cut himself off when Gregory lightly tapped his shin. ‘We called a truce.’

‘The chocolates are delicious, Father’ Sherlock complimented. ‘They go very well with the milk,’ he yawned. ‘I’m full,’ he noted to himself.

Rosie blinked slowly watching Sherlock. She was tired too but was fighting it since she didn't feel well. John hugged her. "How about Papa and I go run you a bubble bath and then you and Sultan can snuggle with Papa while he tells you a story?"

She nodded slightly. "Sultan baff too?"

He smiled. "No, but I'm sure he'll sit right by the tub and watch. Come on now."

Kissing the top of her head he sighed with a slight smile. "Sorry she's not feeling well. Best we get her to bed. Dinner was lovely."

Greg waved him off. "Go take care of her. Mycroft and I will help with clean up. Let us know how she's doing later, ok?"

Siger nodded. "It's all right, John. Just take care of her and let us know if there's anything we can do to help out. Sweet dreams Rosie."

 

***

 

Sherlock left the room, not bothering to make any excuses and went up to run a bath for Rosie. He first went into his bedroom and rummaged through his bag to retrieve a bomb bath he knew Rosie would adore – and she would most likely find it soothing to watch it dissolve into the water. He made a mental note to have several of these stocked up so she could experiment and determine the reason it did dissolve when in contact with water.

He smiled slightly. "I think you thought of everything. She's still very warm. I hope the fever break is soon." Hugging Rosie close he nodded. "Feels nice, doesn't it. I bet Papa would let you drop the bath bomb in."

Sherlock smiled in return. 'Not until she's in. When you get taller you'll do that standing up and enjoy the sight of the molecules diss- I'm rambling, am I not? Let's get her in.'

John chuckled softly. "It's ok. I'm worried too. In you go, angel." Settling her in the tub he stroked her curls. "Ready to drop it in and see what happens?"   
She nodded slightly. "Yeah..."

‘Worried? I’m not worried,’ he replied, putting up a front for Rosie. Despite his tone being indignant, he couldn’t help an undertone of defensiveness and worry to seep through. Rosie let go of the ball into the warm water, resulting in a fizzy froth appearing as the  molecules of sodium bicarbonate and citric acid produced bubbles of carbon dioxide. The soothing smell of lavender and chamomile filled their nostrils.   
If he’d wanted the room to fill with it Sherlock would have got two bombs into the water but to help a presumably fevered toddler to sleep, one was enough.

‘It’s nice, is it not? Relaxing,’ Sherlock commented, breathing the perfumes and oils in.

"Pretty..." she nodded running her hand through the bright purple suds. "Smell nice."

John gently poured the water over her back. "It does. It's a happy smell." He glanced up at Sherlock. Her fever wasn't going down much yet.

Worried lines creased up Sherlock’s face. ‘What if we added more hot water, Doctor? I’m sure you can provide a professional opinion. At least I hope so,’ he added under his breath, not at all sure that John didn’t hear him and past caring. Rosie was sick and Sherlock was... _concerned_.

John sighed. "Keep it just warm enough to keep her comfortable. She's got chills so I don't want her unhappy with cold water. But we need to get her fever down. Text Mycroft or Greg, have them bring up some juice or an ice lolly or ice cream. Anything cold."

Reaching for the tap of hot water, Sherlock nodded. ‘Sir.’ John was taking charge; he knew it was not good but having orders – instructions – to follow was making things easier for him. ‘I’ll ask Greg. More cold-headed than Mycroft, I assure you.’

Bring something cold to eat for Rosie. -SH

ASAP. -SH.

John chuckled a bit. "You may be right about that." Trying to interest Rosie in some of her bath toys he glanced at Sherlock. Hopefully Rosie's fever was peaking and would come down soon. "Thank you. For everything." Reaching over he squeezed Sherlock's hand.

‘Sir? You will have to be more precise, I’m afraid.’ He was not ‘keeping it together’ as John had instructed him to, he was trying to for Rosie’s sake… but he could not think past her being sick. Is that what happened to every parent? To everyone one… cared about? It was best _not_ to follow that train of thought. He squeezed John’s hand hard, closed his eyes and took a large breath in.

"It's all right." John murmured, tone calming. The same one he used on worried nurses. "A bit of cool water. Don't want her to get too cold, but we need to try and bring her temperature down some more. The medicine will take some time to work."

Sherlock nodded, focussing on John’s voice. Out of the two of them, John was the more level-headed in a crisis while the rational thinking machine that he was decidedly was not. The irony would make him laugh if he weren’t busy being _concerned_.

Greg tapped on the door with a dish of ice cream. "How is she?"  
Greg touched Sherlock's shoulder. "Here's the ice cream. Maybe see if you can get her to eat some. I'll go let them all know how she's doing."

Greg had tried to catch his attention by touching his shoulder _Ludicrous, I’m not out of it. Nor am I a dangerous animal._ ‘Thank you, Greg. I’ll see that she does. Oh. I said that out loud,’ he commented when he saw the look on both John’s and Greg’s faces. ‘I’m sorry.’

"See if you can coax her to have some ice cream and I'll keep the cool water going. She's maybe more likely to eat it if you try than me." He kept his voice calm and even.

‘I will. I’m sure there won’t be a lot of coaxing to do, anyway. It’s _ice cream_ ,’ he retorted.

He nodded at Greg. ‘I appreciate it. Thanks, Greg.’

Greg chuckled softly patting his shoulder. "No offense taken. None of us are quite ourselves right now. You just focus on Rosie. Just let me know if there's anything else I can do, ok. You get better now, Rosie." John smiled. "Thanks, Greg. I'm sure she'll appreciate it."

‘I hope I will not need to convince you to eat it, Rosie,’ he said more sternly. ‘I don’t want to eat all of it myself, I’ll need your help for at least half of that bowl.’

Rosie blinked at him with fever bright eyes and pink splotches on her cheeks. It was obviously taking quite a bit of effort to process things. "Ice team? Share Papa?"

"Yes you can share with Papa, sweetheart. Your favourite ice cream. Chocolate chip." John nodded, stroking her hair.

Sherlock gulped. Rosie was visibly fighting to focus and make sense of things and here he was, _talking_. _Keep it together, Holmes_ , he admonished himself. ‘That’s right, darling. We’ll share. Chocolate. Perfect for us with a sweet tooth. Ladies first.’

He gave her a spoonful and another before taking some of it himself – his helpings were not as large as Rosie’s but as she was feverish and struggling against it she did not notice. Soon they had gone through more than half of the bowl, or rather Rosie had.

John smiled. "Look at that, you and Papa sharing ice cream. What a nice thing. Are you feeling a little better?" Rosie blinked shrugging slightly. "Well how about we get you out of the tub. You and Sultan can cuddle in Daddy and Papa's bed and we'll all snuggle up and have a story."

Lifting her out of the tub he wrapped her in a towel gently rubbing her dry. "Rosie?!" His voice was slightly more alarmed. In his arms Rosie whimpered faintly shaking. John held her gently. "It's ok, it's ok. Daddy's here. Papa's here too. It's ok sweetheart."

Sherlock emptied the tub as John lifted Rosie out of it. ‘Excellent idea, John. A cuddle all together under warm bedcovers, with a story. I’m thinking that The Hob-’ he cut himself of upon hearing alarm seeping in John’s voice - John? Alarmed? These two words don’t compute. Need more data. He turned around and took in the scene. Rosie was lying weakly in John’s arms, shaking, visibly fighting to stay conscious – and failing to.

Sherlock went up to them both, breathing faster. ‘John? What is it? What can we do?’ he asked, his panic threatening to break loose despite his efforts to try to keep it somewhat under control for John.

"Febrile seizure. fairly common in children her age with high fevers. Seen them before. Time it. She'll be ok." He was a bit too calm and collected, completely in Doctor/Captain mode. "It's all right sweetheart. Daddy and Papa are here. Just relax. Don't fight it. You'll be just fine. We're right here with you." He spoke soothingly holding her close and kissing the top of her head.

Sherlock looked at his watch. He might try not to show that Rosie’s predicament was affecting him but he was agitated, negative thoughts racing through his brain at a mile a minute. John’s calm attitude under the circumstance was... good and helped bring back some focus and push away some of his anxious state. ‘Listen to your Daddy, Rosie. We’re here. We’ll take care of you,’ he said in a voice as soft and as devoid of panic as he could. He still didn’t dare touch her lest his own shaking had any influence.

"You can touch her. It's all right. It'll help. I promise. It'll help her know you're here. Shouldn't last much longer. It's on the downhill side now." He murmured softly rocking Rosie gently. "That's it sweetheart. You're going to be ok."

Sherlock nodded. ‘I won’t do anything wrong? You’re quite certain? You certainly sound so.’ He laid the palm of his hand on Rosie’s back and moved it in small circles. ‘I’m here, Rosie. Papa’s here. Daddy’s here. You are going to be just fine, your Daddy is a doctor, remember? A very good one. We’ll take care of you.’

Rosie's shaking slowed to a stop and her breathing evened out. Blinking and looking a bit fuzzy but more alert she gave Sherlock a tiny smile. "Papa gots ice team on his face." John smiled. "He does, doesn't he."

‘I most certainly don’t,’ he protested, passing a hand over his face to check. ‘ _You_ do,’ he said, scooping a bit of imaginary ice cream off her nose. ‘Are you feeling better, darling?’ he asked in a soft voice, a sweet smile on his face.

She nodded eyes still a bit unfocused. "Uh huh. Sleepy."   
John nodded. "Of course you are sweetheart. We'll get you in your pj's and tucked into bed." He kissed the top of her head. "Perfectly normal for her to be tired after that. She'll be ok."

‘It is good to know,’ he smiled. ‘I imagine a story is in order to help her even more to sleep? And calm everyone’s nerves,’ he added, aware that despite his calm appearance John must be as much shaken as he is.

He nodded. "An excellent idea. Maybe a bit of warm milk with honey, vanilla, and cinnamon in it to keep away the chill."

Rosie nodded. "Yummy."

Chuckling he nodded. "Indeed. Now let's put on your snuggly pj's and Papa will snuggle with you and Sultan while I get the milk, ok?"

Head popping out of the top of her pyjama top she nodded. "Ok."

Sherlock settled comfortably against the pile of pillows and held Rosie closely to him. He kissed the top of her head and cleared his voice. ‘Should we wait for Daddy to come back with your milk? I’m sure he’ll be back in a minute. We’ll wait for him for the story, so we can all have it together. You, however, will be privy to a song or two from the story. Would you like that?’

Nodding she cuddled into him with a yawn stroking Sultan's ears gently. "Papa sing pretty."

Coming back with mugs of warm milk John smiled. "Well don't you three look all cozy. Here we are. Grandma had it all ready for us."

He kissed her forehead. ‘Anything for my princess. Thank you, dear. You were missing in all the cozyness. Give me a kiss and come settle with us,’ he waved next to Rosie.

Kissing him and the Rosie he carefully moved Sultan. Settling with his arm around her and Sherlock he smiled. "Feeling better?"

Sipping the warm milk she nodded. "Yeah. Sleepy."

Nodding he kissed her forehead. "I bet. Just listen to Papa's story and close your eyes."

A warm feeling spread in Sherlock’s chest. He opened the book – he knew it by heart but he found that the well-worn accessory was a nice touch. ‘In a hole in the ground there lived a hobbit. Not a nasty, dirty, wet hole, filled with the ends of worms and an oozy smell, nor yet a dry, bare, sandy hole with nothing in it to sit down on or to eat: it was a hobbit-hole, and that means comfort.’

Giggling Rosie listened intently and fell sound asleep after a few pages. John sighed slipping out of bed to stand at the window, hand clenched tightly into a shaking fist.

Sherlock did not say a word as he took in John’s tense frame in front of the window. An unhelpful, mean corner of his mind remarked on the psychological elements of it – crisis over, but subject shows symptoms of withdrawal – a remark he was wise enough not to make out loud. He stayed on the bed, deciding that John might very well need a moment to let the tension he had accumulated during the ordeal go.

‘She is alright, John. Sound asleep. Safe, as you said she would be,’ he said softly. ‘A strong, calm and very efficient doctor. Surely you don’t doubt that.’

He sighed hand still shaking. "I should have noticed sooner. Got her the medicine sooner. Could have gotten the fever down before it got so bad she had a seizure..." He thumped the window frame fully with his fist, hand still shaking.

‘The most observant man you know did not see the signs. Mycroft did not see the signs. _Mother_ and Father did not see the signs and Lord knows they have been used to my frail state as a child. You’ve nothing to reproach yourself for, John. Nothing to be guilty over, dear,’ he replied, sliding off the bed to stand near John – but not too near, he might still need to let his emotions go. Sherlock was distressed at seeing John in such a state for it had been so long he had been genuinely overwhelmed, but he knew he was to be strong here and help his partner as best he could. For now, using logic proved to be a good solution.

"I know her better than anyone. I've treated who knows how many children. I should have seen it. What kind of father am I for her? First Mary's indifference and near neglect, then my drinking, now this..." He swallowed hard shoulders drooping. "You know, a few times I honestly considered giving her up, let her be adopted by people who didn't marry killers for hire, who could put the bottle down... Sometimes I wonder if I'm not doing her more harm than good and keeping her for my own selfish reasons so I won't be a failure at being a father like I have with everything else..."

Sherlock’s breath hitched, he hadn’t thought that he still felt that way. ‘You cannot possibly be serious, dear. A failure? No. You’ve never been a failure in my eyes, John.’ He put a hand on John’s shoulder. ‘Do you remember what you told me? You’re not alone in this. Never again. What’s past is past. You can’t blame yourself for Mary’s past,’ he continued, softly pulling John close to him. ‘Nor can you blame yourself for seeking a temporary reprieve from the hurt and the pain. You have put the bottle down, John. I have lain the syringe aside. What’s past is past, and we’ve got each other,’ he said with finality.

John sighed wrapping his arms tightly around Sherlock and nuzzling his chest. "I would be so lost without you. So would Rosie. You make her, and me, so happy. Everything felt right again when we came back. And it's just continued to feel better. We're so lucky to have you and all of this..." Stroking his cheek he kissed him softly. "Thank you. This will still take me a bit to handle, but you help. A lot. As usual." He smiled faintly.

Sherlock embraced John more tightly, relaxing as John eased into his arms, his breathing calmer and shaking subsiding. ‘John you know that I feel the same. You know I do. I hope you know that I will continue to help for as long as you’ll have me,’ he intoned, his voice serious as he lifted John’s chin to meet his eyes.

Standing on tiptoe just a bit he kissed him slowly. "I'll have you forever. If you'll have me... You make us happy. Very happy. Happier than we were before." Gently tangling his hand in Sherlock's hair he pressed their foreheads together. "If she wasn't asleep in our bed right now there's a hell of a long list of things I'd do to you…"

‘Don’t be tedious, John, of course I’ll ha-’ He cut himself off mid-sentence as he registered John’s words and their meaning. ‘Oh,’ he whispered. ‘A long list?’ he echoed. ‘Well, er, maybe you could –‘ he stumbled for words. ‘You do know there are 6 bedrooms here, don’t you?’ he asked emboldened by the smirk on John’s face.

John smiled up at him. "Think we could impose on your Mum or Dad to come sit with her? Just so she's not alone if she wakes up and is still a bit disoriented?"

Sherlock nodded, a soft smile on his face. ‘This is the furthest from your earlier self-deprecation as a father I heard. You go and ask, please,’ he added after a short pause. ‘I don’t know how I could manage that sort of discussion with either of my parents. Delicately put it or not, they’d see through it and – I shudder to think at what they would say.’

Chuckling he nodded. "You tuck our little princess and her furry companion in and figure out which room will be warm and a bit further away from everyone so we don't have to think too hard about being quiet... What can I say, I need a distraction and you are a _very good_ distraction."

Sherlock’s eyebrow rose. ‘You meant to say that sex is a very good distraction. You can’t possibly know that I am close to being any… good in that area.’ Tucking Rosie in he continued ‘I know exactly where… Is there anything you require, Sir?’ he asked, suddenly overwhelmed by the idea of not doing things right.

John smiled softly taking his hand gently and kissing it. "No, love. You. Just you. That's all I need. We'll see where things go. I'm not expecting anything. Just want to be alone with you and work on distracting myself a bit."

He shivered under John’s kiss on his hand. ‘Am I right to assume lubricant will be needed regardless of where your distraction goes to? Though not… ignorant of the proceedings I must admit that some of the specifics involved elude me, whatever the degree of... distraction,’ he confessed.

John smiled. "If you happen to have some. Otherwise we'll just have to improvise or do things that don't require it."

‘I am surprised that you did not actually take that with you after you… helped me. Things that do not require it… what would these be, I wonder. I am not going to be presumptuous but I can tell you now that we will need it. Go now,‘ he urged John. ‘I will er, make preparations. Or would you rather I show you the room first?’

John kissed him softly. "No. I trust you completely. Just tell me where I'm going. Or text me. Or leave a note. Something. Won't be long."

Going downstairs he found Sherlock's parents in the kitchen enjoying a nightcap. "She's ok now. Sound asleep. We were wondering if one, or both, of you could sit with her for a bit? Sherlock and I would like to talk over some things and I hate to wake her up..."

‘You needn’t sound so calm, John,’ said Mrs Holmes. ‘Seeing her sick was hard on us all, it’s perfectly understandable that her own fathers would be most upset about it and needed to… talk. I’m glad to hear that she’s better now and sleeping,’ she added. ‘I’ll gladly go sit with her. You two need a bit of calm to collect yourselves after that,’ she declared in a tone that implied that his excuse for a talk was perfectly understood as it was: an excuse.

He smiled kissing her cheek. "You're wonderful. In case I haven't said it enough. I'm sure she'll sleep right through. I know she'd feel better having someone there if she happens to wake up."

Siger nodded. "We're happy to watch her John. As long as you two need. Don't feel the need to rush things. She'll be just fine. It'll be our pleasure to sit with her."

Door next to the upstairs bathroom. -SH.

John smiled. "Right. We'll try not to be too long. Thank you."

 


	18. Intimacy

Knowing Rosie would be under the watchful care of her grandparents John made his way to the small door Sherlock had indicated. Heading up the steep staircase he chuckled at the sight of the makeshift lab and pile of quilts, blankets, and pillows. "Warmer up here than I was expecting. Is this your lab?"

‘Yes. Extension to my bedroom. I built it when I needed quiet and it had become clear that I couldn’t have any in my bedroom. I spent a fair amount of time here,’ he gestured to the pillows, blankets and quilts. ‘You’re the first and only person to ever enter,’ he added as if that somehow changed anything.

Smiling John settled on the comfortable pile kissing him softly. "Then I'm honoured you wanted to share your special place with me. Your parents are going to sit with Rosie while we're up here. They practically jumped at the chance."

‘Of course they did,’ he snorted. ‘You’re the only person I want to share this with. You said you had… a list?’ Sherlock enquired, a hint of shyness to his voice.

Gently pulling him close he nodded. "A long list of things I've wanted to do with you. To have my hands and mouth all over you, to make love to you slow and sweet and hot, for you to do the same to me. And about a good dozen variations on all that."

Sherlock put his lips on John’s and kissed him hungrily, his shyness from a moment ago scattered away. ‘These ideas have a certain merit - deserve to be explored,’ he commented as he ran his hands over John’s back.

"Mm not saying we have to explore all of them tonight, or ever, they're just ideas, things that I've thought about for a very long time." He tangled his fingers in Sherlock’s curls kissing him slowly nibbling teasingly.

‘A very long time, huh?’ he repeated in between kisses. ‘Then I’m sure you have detailed scenarios of these ideas. You used them as inspiration, didn’t you?’ His hands now tracing large circles on John’s back and descending onto his lower back.

"Oh dozens of scenarios. Dozens," he chuckled. "And some of them were incredibly detailed. Never would have imagined this though. It's perfect. Suits you incredibly well."

Sherlock’s breath hitched as it usually does when John uses the word ‘perfect’ in regards to him or a situation he is involved in. ‘What does?’

Smiling he gently ran his fingers through Sherlock's curls gently scratching and massaging his scalp. "This place. It's perfect. I can just see you up here working on your experiments, falling asleep waiting for results. Suits you almost as much as Baker Street."

‘I’ll have you know that I didn’t… fall asleep. Not willingly,’ Sherlock huffed slightly. ‘Just as Baker Street it’s been… incomplete. Without you,’ he added letting his head fall slightly backwards. ‘Just as _I_ am,’ he breathed letting his eyes meet John’s.

"Charmer," he smiled stealing a kiss. "Didn't know it was you that was missing from my life until you looked up at me from that microscope. Now I can't imagine life without you. And of course you didn't fall asleep on purpose."

‘Have you met me?’ Sherlock grinned. ‘Now who’s the charmer? We’d have to do experiments to find out. The lab is well-equipped,’ he smirked, pointing at a beaker. 'Lubey lube,' he explained before he resumed kissing John.

Laughing he kissed him slowly. "You're adorable sometimes, you know that? Love you so much. How lucky am I not only to be with the world's only consulting detective but he also happens to be a genius chemist who can create wonderful things." Giggling he kissed him. "Lubey lube..."

‘Very,’ he smirked against John’s lips. ‘Experiment, then? I’m sure you too can do wonderful things,’ he nibbled at his earlobe.

"Mm I'm going to try. Going to be so good to you. Make you feel so special and loved," he murmured kissing him slowly.

Sherlock shuddered, unused to the combination of sex with love. ‘You already are. Being good to me. What do you want me to do? How do you want me? Is there enough?’ he asked, seemingly incapable of keeping his thoughts and slight worries from sputtering out. He wasn’t a virgin but he was as good as when it came to sex with John. He hadn’t, after all, engaged in promiscuous activities in almost a decade and in a promiscuous as well as emotional one in... well, ever. Despite the cocky attitude he had displayed, he was slightly daunted in the face of their upcoming activity.

John ran his hand through Sherlock's curls. "Sherlock, love, breathe. Slow down. I'm sure there's enough. And what I want right now is just to be kissing you and touching you. The rest will come along when it's right. Ok."

‘Is it… sex? It can’t be sex. Why can’t it be? I trust your judgement and expertise in this,’ he said, barely stopping for breath. _Stupid, stupid. You’re making it difficult. Feel. The touch of his hand in your hair, his other hand on your waist, the heat of his body, the softness of his lips against yours. ‘_ You’re right. Of course you’re right. Can we… sit down?’ he gestured towards the pile of pillows and blankets posing as a makeshift bed.

John nodded. "I think sitting might be a good idea before your brain goes offline and you fall. Would hate to have that happen." Gently pulling him down he held him close kissing him slow and sweet hands lightly sliding over his chest. _As would I_. Sherlock breathed more calmly, returning the kisses John bestowed on him. After his moment of overthinking was over, he was more in control of himself, more aware of the sensations John kissing him brought. While he was tracing a hand up and down John’s back, he cupped John’s cheeks and bent his head to the side to allow for more room for John’s exploratory tongue, a silent show of trust, a tentative plea for more.

"That's my gorgeous love," he murmured against Sherlock's soft lips. Sliding a hand over his chest slowly he pressed against him. "Love you so much. Going to make you feel so good. Going to try and show you how much I love you and how amazing you are."

Sherlock caught the moan that had nearly escaped his lips, shuddering against John, feeling his elevated heartbeat. ‘Yes,’ he breathed. ‘John... yes. Please.’

"I've got you, sweetheart. I've got you." He murmured softly slowly unbuttoning Sherlock's shirt with one hand as the other carded through his curls. "You're so beautiful..."

Sherlock’s own hands still exploring John’s back and chest stilled as he steeled himself. ‘Can I…?’ he asked as his fingers hovered over the hem of his soft new jumper. ‘I want… to see you… to feel you,’ he explained.

John smiled softly nudging his nose. "Of course you can. I happen to know I love your hands on me. Good thing you're not wearing your purple shirt. Not sure I could keep from tearing it off you…"

A sheepish smile grew on his lips at the implication of John’s words. ‘I did pack it. I imagine you’ll have to restrain yourself tomorrow,’ he smirked, pulling the jumper over John’s head. After he’d discarded it, his fingers went right away to work on the buttons of the shirt he was wearing underneath it, leaving John’s naked chest for Sherlock to contemplate, lavish and explore. ‘Gorgeous,’ he whispered, nibbling softly at John’s jaw as his hands resumed their previous activity, gathering more data for him to store in his mind palace.

John rumbled a laugh. "Mm I'll have to be extra careful. Wouldn't do for me to ruin the purple shirt of sex, now would it?" Moaning softly he leaned into Sherlock's hands. "Love your hands. Always loved them. Bloody gorgeous and talented."

‘Have to be. Can’t be a chemist and a violin player without talented hands,’ he replied seriously as he caressed and played with John’s swiftly hardening nipple, placing a hand at the base of his neck, pulling him closer to his mouth. ‘Kiss me. Marvellous kisses... wonderful tongue,’ he mumbled as he put his lips against John’s.

"Mm lucky thing you're cute and sexy when you're bossy." John smirked nibbling on Sherlock's plump lower lip as he slid his hand over Sherlock's chest gently pressing his palm over the scar in the centre. "I love you."

Sherlock’s hand came to grasp John’s and apply it more firmly against his heart, a few inches higher. ‘I know,’ his words another, deeper meaning he put into a passionate kiss, moaning as his hand firmly held John’s.

"I love you so bloody much, Sherlock Holmes." He kissed him slowly hand gently moving over the scar. "Always makes me feel better when I can feel your heartbeat. Sometimes I'd wake up in the middle of the night and couldn't sleep again until I knew you were ok."

Sherlock stayed silent for a short moment, taking in what John told him. ‘There’s no reason you won’t, now,’ he declared. ‘You won’t have to wait to know that I am. Turning around should be sufficient. Provided I let you, of course. Hard to move if you’re trapped,’ he chuckled. ‘I won’t let you go, the most important part of me has been missing for too long. We’ve been apart for too long,’ he added kissing John again, passing a hand through John’s hair and trailing the other down his back.

John nodded nibbling on Sherlock's lip with more than a hint of a low growl rumbling through his chest. Moving carefully he shifted so Sherlock was lightly pinned under him. The strings of old Christmas lights cast a kaleidoscope of colours across Sherlock's marbled pale skin. "So bloody gorgeous...’ John husked thumbs stroking the inside of Sherlock's wrists where they were pinned above his head. "Too long. Too bloody long. Not again. Never again. And whenever you need me, I will be right there. Right where you can see me and touch me so you know it's all real. That _this_ is real," shifting slightly he firmly pressed his thigh against Sherlock's growing erection.

Sherlock groaned under the pressure of John’s thigh. His heartbeat, already elevated, increased as John held his wrists and his body was pinned under John’s. His eyes darted automatically towards the door for a fraction of second before they became hazy, John’s light strokes helping him refocus. Sherlock wiggled under John’s dominating body, more out of excitement than fear – that particular one having been thrown out of the metaphorical window the second he’d registered it was John he was pinned under. But being pinned down didn’t make him stop talking – or be impertinent. ‘Well who’s the bossy one, now?’ he asked trying to dissimulate his rapidly ragged breath under his usual brash, mocking tone.

John continued to gently stroke Sherlock's wrists giving him a moment to process and settle. Smiling when he felt Sherlock's focus shift he kissed his forehead gently. "There you are my gorgeous man... Was a bit worried you were going to be wandering around your mind palace and I'd be here by myself." He teased gently, not at all put off by Sherlock's snippy tone which usually meant he was still processing things he was feeling. "Mm but you like it when I'm bossy." John smirked, voice husky in Sherlock's ear as he nipped teasingly, rocking against him slowly.

‘Where do you get that idea…?’ he moaned. Instinctively he had placed his hands on both sides of John’s waist while the rest of his body undulated in a somewhat jerky way along with John.

Smirking John kissed and nibbled along his neck. "Mm dilated pupils, faster breathing, increased heart rate, the spots of colour on your cheeks, this..." He rolled his hips against Sherlock's, thigh pressing more firmly against his rapidly hardening cock.

‘I’ll make a… detective out… out of you yet. Can’t discard such… important… evidence,’  his cocky tone losing its effect as he breathed his words, instead of his usual assured, collected way of speaking.

John rumbled a laugh nipping teasingly along Sherlock's neck as his thumbs rubbed over the top of Sherlock's hip bones. "Mm... Very important evidence... Just let yourself feel. You look so gorgeous right now... Completely edible..."

‘Bit… hard... not to… feel,’ he sighed, bucking under John, seeking more friction. ‘Didn’t know you were still… hungry.’

"Mm more than a bit hard right now, love. Very hard..." Smirking he rocked against him teasingly slow.

‘Yes,’ he hissed. ‘I can… feel that. John…’ he groaned, frustration starting to pile up exquisitely.

"Over the years I've learned that I'm always hungry for you. I forced myself to ignore it for a long time. Nice not to have to do that anymore."

 ‘I need… More… Definitely _don’t…_ ignore your... hunger.’

John smirked rubbing against him slowly with a low groan. "Mm is that so, love? Well then I suppose I should be nice and give you what you want. At least some of it." Unfastening Sherlock's trousers he tapped a hip. "Up you go. Let's get these off of you. I think we'll both like that better."

‘Some of it…? You’re not being exactly… What’s with all the smirking, Doctor?’ he asked as he pulled his trousers and pants down. ‘You’re going to take yours off too, aren’t you?’ he ~~beg~~ asked in a hopeful tone. ‘I know I’ll like _that_ even better.’

"Smirking because I've got the most gorgeous and brilliant man in the world right here under me practically begging for me. How's that for an answer?" He cocked his head with a grin. Sherlock’s face flushed. "And you'll get everything you want. In time. I don't want to rush. Want to remember everything about tonight." Sitting up for a moment he quickly stripped out of his jeans and pants. Slipping his thigh between Sherlock's slightly spread legs he pressed again, rubbing teasingly. "Mm much better."

‘Aah yes... much...’ he moaned. ‘”Gorgeous”?’ he gasped under the teasing rubbing, goosebumps running up his arms.

"Yes, love, gorgeous." John murmured kissing him slowly hands sliding along his arms to smooth away the goosebumps. "Incredibly gorgeous…"

Moaning, at a loss for words, Sherlock arched his back, locking a leg around John’s waist, firmly pulling him closer.

"That's it you gorgeous thing you..." John husked. "Brilliant..." Kissing and nipping along his neck he rolled his hips slowly moaning at the friction. "You feel so good, love... So good..."

‘John… Yes… Claim me,’ he ~~dem~~ asked, baring his neck.

"Didn't know you'd be this bloody eager... Love it...” Nipping along his neck he was careful to leave marks that would be covered by his collar. No sense giving Mycroft any ammunition. "Love you so much..."

He gasped again, clenching the muscles of his stomach under John’s attention. ‘Hardly my… first time… Know what I want... Imagined it often enough,’ he explained.

"Mm is that so?" he murmured kissing him slowly. "Mind sharing just what it is you've imagined? We'll see how much the things from your imagination have in common with mine. I'm sure there's plenty."

‘This. Kissing. Definitely a lot of kissing. A lot of touching. Exploring. Tongues. F-Fingers. Rubbing. You being... you know,’ he indicated their current posture. ‘In command,’ he precised. ‘I could go down – _on_ ,’ he corrected. ‘ _The list_ goes on.’

"Mm I think I like your list." He smiled kissing him slowly sliding his hands over him. "You really are a work of art. So beautiful. Like a living sculpture. Never seen anyone so gorgeous."

‘You’re… No idea...’ he mumbled, eyes downcast and cheeks aflame.

John cupped his cheek stroking it gently. "Sherlock... Hey, hey now, come on. It's me. It's just me. You can tell me anything. Whatever it is we'll work through it. Like we've done with everything else."

‘Don’t – of course it’s you. Only you,’ he agreed, his voice low and soft. ‘Only you ever said that. To me. You’ve no idea...’ he rumbled.

"What? that you're beautiful? Gorgeous? Stunning? A work of art? Because you are. All of that and more. Breath-taking. I swear I forgot how to breathe the first time you looked at me..."

‘Yeah… that,’ he confirmed with a small, timid smile. ‘All bones and angles. I’ve been told it was not… especially good. “Not for a human being, anyway. For a freakish alien it might be a different matter”,’ he confessed. ‘Don’t let me spoil... this. Just – forget it. Let’s go back to… more pleasant and pleasing activities...’

"You are a lot of angles but those angles are what's so beautiful. The way the light plays over you... Even now with those strings of old Christmas lights blinking and throwing spots of coloured light all over you... Beautiful. You are not freakish or alien, love. You're gorgeous. My beautiful posh boy..." He husked rocking against him slowly as he kissed him. Sherlock kissed him with abandon, caressing John’ sides and back. ‘Not that posh,’ he protested.

John chuckled deeply nibbling on Sherlock's lip. "Mm more than a fair bit posher than me. And I think I like calling you my posh boy. My gorgeous posh boy that everyone thinks is cold and untouchable who is anything but. Who is sweet, and kind, and funny, and loving, and is practically purring right now." He kissed him slowly one hand gently scratching at Sherlock's scalp as the other slid along his back slowly.

‘John...’ Sherlock murmured, purred, his voice low. ‘Yours, yes,’ he said huskily, leaning into John’s touch, caressing the strong biceps holding him pressed softly but firmly against his dominant lover’s body. He wriggled under him, intensely aware of John’s hands on him, seeking more friction. ‘John...’ he sighed.

"You're incredible..." John murmured gazing down at him. "Every time I think you couldn't be more gorgeous, you go and prove me wrong." Glancing at Sherlock's hand on his arm he chuckled softly. "Amazed you never figured out I had this tattoo..." He shifted his arm slightly watching Sherlock's eyes focussed on the movement of the snake.

‘You do… hide it rather… and present me with… superior distractions,’ he panted. ‘Need another. I’m sure he’s… lonely,’ he traced a finger along the snake. ‘Fascinating. It looks as if… moving. Danger.’  He pulled himself up to kiss John’s shoulder. ‘And here you – _I_ am.’

John chuckled. "Mm don't exactly hide it, but I don't exactly show it off either. Amazed you didn't notice it the other times I've had my shirt off lately. Kind of been thinking about another one. Have one for my past, one for the future." He kissed Sherlock slowly. "Don't know how the artist managed to make it look like it moves but I like it. And together is where we'll always be."

‘I told you. I was… distracted,’ he moaned as he rubbed against John, hand wandering to his muscled backside. ‘That staff should be a gun. Your gun. The one you used to save me, to bring us together. Mix your past and your future.’

"Mm you're brilliant... Work in important days to. When we met, when you came back, Rosie's birthday, first time I kissed you..." He smiled.

‘Can you get the same artist to work on it? There really should be two snakes up there. Army doctor. Protector and soldier. They work together. They need to move together,’ he said, his eyes fixed on the snake moving on the flexed muscles.

Chuckling John nodded. "Pretty sure I can. He comments on the blog from time to time."

‘Well then,’ Sherlock whispered, ‘I suppose you’ll have an appointment to make,’ he smiled. ‘My dear... Will you... Take me home?’

John chuckled. "Looks like. I'll put a call in once the holidays are over. I'll take you anywhere, love. Follow you anywhere. Say the word and Rosie would follow you to the ends of the earth."

Sherlock kissed John fiercely, hands roaming over him. His leg, still wrapped around John, had lost its tight grip after their heartfelt exchange; communicating was distracting in this way. 'Hungry...' he softly growled against John's lips.

John chuckled deeply rocking against him teasingly, eyes dark. "Yeah? What's my posh boy hungry for? Have to tell me. Use your words," he rumbled a laugh kissing him eagerly.

‘You,’ he replied huskily. ‘You...’ he reiterated, stroking John’s nipples with his nimble fingers while his dominant hand trailed down to graze his lower stomach, his pubic hair and hover over his erect prick.

Groaning deeply John pressed into his hand. "Mm thought so..." Nibbling along Sherlock's neck he fumbled slightly reaching for the small bottle of lube. "Wanted this from the night we met....."

‘I know. Looking back it appeared I did, too. And things quickly got out of… hand,’ his hand grazed John’s pubic hair again. ‘Bad choice of words. But you know what I mean. Time to take matters in hand properly,’ he put his hand on John, feeling the pulsing heat under his hand. ‘I want you, John...’ he growled in his ear, his voice low and dripping with lust.

"You've got me, love. Always have, always will." He kissed him hard trying to be patient enough to take the time to prepare him thoroughly.

Sherlock recognised that the preparations were necessary as quite a bit of time had passed during which he had focussed mainly on the Work – and soon after, John – and his body had grown unaccustomed to penetration. ‘What…?’ Sherlock whispered, taken aback by the length of the proceedings, nevertheless enjoying the feel of John’s caressing, teasing, probing fingers inside of him. 

"Shh..." John soothed kissing him slowly. "Don't want to rush this. Want to make sure you're ready. Make sure you're nice and relaxed and loosened up."

‘Nice… Relaxed… ’course I am,’ he moaned. ‘More, John...’ he groaned, thrashing.

Smirking John trailed kisses along Sherlock's neck carefully twisting his wrist and testing three fingers deep inside. "Knew you'd be beautiful..."

Sherlock clenched the soft blanket and gripped a firm hand onto John’s shoulder, a low growl coming from his O-shaped lips as John’s relentless fingers hit a particular spot. ‘G- John!’ he shouted – or he would have if his voice was more than a very hoarse whisper. ‘Again… more… please...’

Rumbling a chuckle he kissed him slowly. "Mm that's one of the few times I've heard you say please. How can deny you?" Stroking and teasing him John smirked. "Love making you feel good."

‘J-Jaaawn! You… do… Oh… Yeees...’ he hissed, thrashing continuously, hands completely uncoordinated. ‘Ready...’ he gasped as John’s fingers hit his prostate once again. ‘So… ready...’

"Yeah, love, yeah, I think you are." Carefully withdrawing his fingers he slicked himself up. "Tell me if it hurts or it's too much." Pushing in slowly he groaned deeply. "So fucking hot and tight..."

Sherlock grunted, his breath catching in his throat. ‘You… huge...’ he managed.

Nuzzling along his neck John moaned softly. "Too much? You feel amazing..."

‘A… moment… Just...’ he groaned, his body adjusting to John breaching into him. ‘More,’ he breathed. ‘You’re… love… deeper… ready… can take… you.’

Running his hand though Sherlock's curls John nodded slowly and carefully pushing deeper and thrusting slowly. "I love you so much."

Arching his back, Sherlock closed his eyes, throwing his head backwards. Sex had never been so amazing, so complete. ‘John...’ he whispered, bringing his hands to tightly wrap around John’s waist. ‘So good… I, ah, love to… feel you. You’re so… large… gentle… more...’

"My gorgeous love." John murmured softly kissing Sherlock slowly. "Love you so much. Going to take my time and take you apart piece by piece..."

These words went directly to Sherlock’s prick: twitching, demanding attention, it had grown larger as the breaching, somewhat painful at first, became more and more pleasurable. ‘Yes... John... Love...’ he groaned as he put his arms up and locked his hands together, fixing his eyes on John’s then glancing at his wrists. ‘Yours...’ he grunted, spreading his legs wider.

John groaned squeezing Sherlock's hands as he kissed him, hip rolling slowly. "Always mine." He moaned deeply slowly and carefully pushing deeper into Sherlock's willing body. "Nothing's ever felt so bloody good, so right... Like you were made for me..."

‘Yours, John,’ he repeated in a ragged breath. ‘Take me… apart, Captain,’ he moaned, accompanying John’s thrusting movements with his own body, curling his toes as pleasure slowly built up inside him. ‘For you… All of me...’

"Damn right." John gave a sharp nod. "And all of me for you, too. So gorgeous. Never going to get enough of you. No idea how I got lucky enough to have you." Kissing him slowly he nipped along his neck lightly, thrusts gaining speed and power. Keeping Sherlock's hands lightly pinned with one of his own he used his free hand to stroke him in time with his thrusts.

‘Any… time you want me, John… How… ever you want me… Always yours,’ he moaned, panting under John’s tender but firm, fast thrusts and strokes. ‘So... good...’ he clenched his hands, leaving crescent indentations in his skin.

John rumbled a laugh. "You might regret saying that. Once given permission like that I have been known to take advantage of it. Often." Kissing him slowly he watched him. "So gorgeous... Just look at you..."

‘I’ll take your… word for it. Not going to… regret that. You don’t need… permission to take… me, surely you know… that. Take advantage of it… whenever you like,’ he panted. ‘Wouldn’t need much… to persuade me...’ he added, voice husky and eyes incandescent, burning into John’s.

"Mm a challenge. You know I love a good challenge. Going to be interesting. We'll take advantage of Rosie's naps and bedtime. And any other time we can manage."

‘Yes,’ Sherlock susurred. ‘Interesting. That’s… one way of – ah!’ he exclaimed as John hit the delicate spot inside him which had become so sensitive after such stimulation. ‘Again! More…! Jaawn…! Pleeease...’ he begged.

"Mm yes one way of what?" John smirked. It was nice to see Sherlock so unfocussed and completely at the mercy of his often ignored transport.. "I shouldn't love hearing you beg so much." He shook his head slightly. "Then again I do have trouble saying no to you." Kissing him hotly he shifted slightly to make sure every thrust hit Sherlock's prostate. "Beautiful."

The combination of John’s strong thrusts, his voice, his hand and body pinning him down… He was at his complete mercy. Sherlock exclaimed a string of sounds, rendered incoherent by John’s attentions.

‘Next time...’ he moaned, too far gone to finish voicing the thought.

"Next time I'm all yours." John promised. "Whenever you'd like. Within reason. I'll remind you." He kissed him. "I've got you, Sherlock. Let go. I'm here. I've got you. You can let go for me."

‘Don’t...’ he said, twisting a hand to brush his long fingers against John’s, trying to wrap a leg around him. ‘Y- John! I’m…!’ he panted, voice turning to nothing, his breath caught as he reached his release, spurts of hot white semen coming from him on their stomachs and chests. ‘John,’ he murmured, almost going limp.

"That's it, love. That's it." He kissed him hands sliding over him soothingly to ease the aftershocks. "I'm right here. So gorgeous." Panting softly he held back a bit. Watching Sherlock like this was something he wanted to remember every second of.

Sherlock revelled in the sensations brought about by his release, in the feel of John’s hands on his body, in the look of beautiful, debauched exertion and… adoration? on John’s face. ‘Love you,’ he whispered, their eyes locked together, bringing his hands down to rest on John’s lower back.

John kissed him slowly hips rolling to continue to tease Sherlock a bit. "Love you too, Sherlock. Always." Pressing his forehead against Sherlock's he kissed him slowly. "You feel amazing…"

‘You too, John… So… So good,’ he breathed. ‘Fascinating sentiment, feelings…,’ he whispered. ‘You… too, John. I want you,’ he panted, his breathing slowed and less erratic after he had climaxed. ‘Want you to fill me.’

John kissed him moaning deeply. "Wanted to make sure that's what you wanted, sweetheart. Some people don't like it. Good to know you will." He panted. "Come on then, legs tighter around me. Higher too if you can manage."

Sherlock did as instructed. ‘Of course that’s… what I want, John.’ The idea of not being marked inside and out by John was… appalling. ‘How could I not like it? It’s _you_ ,’ he declared squeezing the muscles around John’s cock.

Groaning deeply he grunted. "You'd be surprised... Just hold on and tell me if it's too much..." Kissing him hotly he quickly picked up the pace again driving deeply into Sherlock. "Feel so good, love..." It took only a few thrusts before his entire body tensed back arching as he filled Sherlock. "Mine... Mine... Always..."

‘John! God… So good!’ he cried out as he felt John pulse inside him. ‘Yours, I’m yours, yours, always,’ he panted, running his hands up and down John’s back and arms. ‘So strong, my John, I’m yours. Amazing,’ he declared as John stilled. ‘Fantastic,’ he kissed him with passion, yet softly.

John chuckled breathlessly shifting slightly so he wouldn't collapse on Sherlock. "Not so bad yourself... Amazing... Best sex I've ever had..."

‘Oh wait until next time. I’ll do much more than just… lying there… I’d think it obvious but I’ll say it anyway. It was by far the best for me, too,’ he kissed him again, trailing kisses down along John’s neck.

John smirked pressing light kisses to the top of Sherlock's sweat damp curls. "Mm is that so? And you know that sometimes I like to hear the obvious. Makes me sleep better at night. Can't wait to find out what you've got in mind for me, us, next time."

‘Evidently. You will not have to wait long before discovering what I’ll do to you next time – but the number of indecent acts I want to do is so tremendous even I will probably be surprised. First, however, you will need to properly rest, I should think. And I know for a fact that you will sleep very, very well. As will I.’

*******

Greg sighed resisting the urge to pace, glancing upstairs. He knew Rosie was sleeping under the watchful eyes of her grandparents but it didn't help him much.

Setting two glasses of whiskey on the pedestal table, Mycroft walked to Gregory and put a firm hand on his forearm. ‘Gregory. Do sit down. Am I correct to assume that Rosie’s febrile state is worrying you?’

Greg gave him a look usually reserved for Anderson when he was being particularly dense. "A bit," he ground out tersely downing the whiskey in one go.

‘You know it serves no purpose to entertain such thoughts. Besides, as well you know, her father is a doctor. A military man. As you very well know, he keeps a collected mind in crisis. Both her fathers are, as you noted, completely devoted to her. They wouldn’t let anything befall her. You needn’t worry,’ he declared, trying to keep his mind on the facts.

He sighed running his hand through his hair making it stick up. "I know… Just… She's so little..."

Mycroft shivered imperceptibly, took a sip of his glass and passed a hand through Gregory’s hair. ‘She is. And already fierce. Even under the weather she is quite… stubborn. She will fight whatever took her ill this evening. You know she has allies if she needs them. We are all here for her – and my parents are extremely conscientious, as parents are wont to be and certainly more than capable to handle the situation, as I’m sure John and Sherlock need the rest’ he brushed his thumb softly against Gregory’s cheek.

Greg sighed the fight draining out of him as he leaned into Mycroft's hand. "She's pretty tough, isn't she. Couple months ago she got Anderson in the back of the head with her sippy cup and told him to sod off after being rude to Sherlock."

Mycroft chuckled softly, a smile on his lips. ‘I do hope she wasn’t in hearing distance of either of her fathers if she used such language. And that she made her point across, although I believe it is doubtful given Philip Anderson’s reputation.’ Observing Gregory calm down, he indulged to calm his own wracked nerves in taking another, longer sip of his whisky. ‘Are you feeling better?’ He had learnt that asking for emotional status was better and more conducive to a healthy, attentive relationship than simply reading what information he needed.

Nodding he stole a kiss. "Better. You? I know you're worried too. Luckily I had her sitting on my desk with a doughnut while John and Sherlock filled out paperwork in the conference room to get their statements to line up. Makes my life easier if I just let them do it that way."

‘I can appreciate that,’ he nodded. ‘Sherlock has more or less always been trouble. It stands to reason that he would make anyone’s life difficult, and no one wants that. Apart from John, it seems. Moreover, if your life is easier, I have the privilege of a more relaxed partner,’ he evaded the question, not quite knowing how to answer.

Greg chuckled taking Mycroft's hand and gently leading him to the comfortable overstuffed sofa near the faintly glowing fire. "Don't know that John enjoy it, he's just one of the few that calls Sherlock on it when he's being a little shit. If letting them write out their statements together saves me a ton of paperwork and questions I don't want to answer then I'm happy to look the other way." Squeezing Mycroft's hand he kissed it gently. "I know you're worried about her too."

Letting Gregory lead him to the sofa to sit, holding his glass of whiskey, Mycroft sighed. ‘I know it’s irrational and that it shouldn’t be so upsetting however, I _am_ worried. I imagine that her being Sherlock’s does not help with the matter,’ he took another sip looking away.

"She's your niece. You love her. You're allowed to worry. I know Sherlock and John would appreciate knowing how much you care." He squeezed his hand.

‘You might be right. However, need I remind you that, as Sherlock put so well when he was a teenager and later as well, I am “emotionally constipated” and that “any concern of mine would be understood as an imminent threat”, though to his life, to London or to the world in general remains unsure.’

Greg snorted. "Maybe it's time you two buried the hatchet as much as you can. Given the situation, and that you're not worried directly over him, I'm sure he'd understand. You're not as blocked off as you used to be. Neither is he. Both of you might be pleasantly surprised."

Mycroft sighed. ‘You make it sounds much too easy, Gregory. I will try – or have a conversation with John about it. He is more reasonable than Sherlock. Failing that – well,’ he took the last sip of his glass. ‘At least _you_ know I worry about her. I never thought Sherlock would have a child. Even less that said child very well might biologically be his,’ he added after a pause, looking at the fire. ‘What course of action would you recommend?’

"Why don't we set up something special for her? She loves the zoo. I know they do a bit of behind the scenes, but if she could be a junior zookeeper and help feed the animals and give the nice ones a pat. It'd be fun for her. Arranging something like that would go over well for both of them. It'd be a start."

‘I can certainly arrange that. If she enjoys it, as I’m sure she will, I’ll have her junior zookeeper status extended. She could act as one whenever she enters the zoo. Naturally she would have a badge or a pass certifying it. I admit,’ he continued, bringing his empty glass to his lips, ‘I also am worried about how to proceed to assess her genetic lineage. In an acceptable way, obviously. John can be very… prickly about this sort of thing. As would Sherlock.’

Greg nodded. "Is there some way you could leave the information out for them to find? A file on your desk with her name on it, and you absolutely MUST step out of the room for a few minutes. Sherlock's curious as a cat. He'd hardly be able to resist a peek." Smiling softly he took Mycroft's glass. "And perhaps the offer to let Rosie stay over with us after a difficult case so they can get some sleep."

‘Thank you. Yes, of course. I suppose that I should however ask for their permission to do it - unless you think they would ignore the means as long as the end is – unexpected for both of them yet extremely fulfilling?’

Greg nodded. "Well all the information would be fairly routine. Of course you would have a full genetic work up done on her. Some excuse about some condition running in the family that you wanted to rule out and the other results."

‘What would I do without you?’ he asked, resting his head on Gregory’s shoulder and taking his hand, stroking it with his thumb.

Greg smiled softly gently nuzzling Mycroft's hair and kissing his forehead. "Mm… you'd be incredibly frustrated in several ways," he teased giving his hand a squeeze. "I'm a cop and I've been dealing with your brother. Thinking outside the box is one of my specialities. As far as Rosie goes, just be you. She loves you, Myc. I'm sure the more Sherlock sees you interact with her the more he'll come to see that you two can work things out."

Mycroft nodded. ‘I’ll bow to your unbiased knowledge of John’s and my brother’s characters. Frustrated without you,’ he added in a whisper. ‘Yes, that sounds very likely,’ he agreed.

Greg chuckled. "Not completely unbiased but maybe a bit more than you. And it's a good thing I'm here then. So you're not so frustrated."

‘I can only agree with that statement, Gregory,’ he squeezed his hand. ‘You would be of a tremendous help. I can only wonder what you would do to help me not being so frustrated?’ he said, his tone innocent.

"Cheeky bastard." He laughed softly. "I'm sure I can think of something. Come on then. Off to bed. We'll see if I can get you relaxed."

Greg smiled running his hands across the back of Mycroft’s shoulders. “All right, out of that gorgeous suit. Your shoulders are hard as rocks. If I don’t help them relaxed you’ll end up with one of your headaches.”

‘Your wish is my command,’ Mycroft said before divesting himself of his suit jacket, his fingers hovering over his tie he silently asked Gregory whether he should take it off as well. ‘I know you are partial to my wearing a one,’ he murmured.

Snickering he shook his head. "I am, but for now, off. Don't want to ruin it."

Nodding he untied it and worked the buttons of the shirt off before placing it neatly on a nearby chair that his trousers soon came to join along with every piece of garment he had been wearing that day.

‘I trust this is sufficient for what you have in mind. I feel at a distinct disadvantage, here,’ he stated.

"And that is all part of the plan." Greg teased. "Get yourself comfortable while I get some things."

Mycroft narrowed his eyes. ‘I fail to see how leaving me alone will help me relax. But I imagine I should bow to the man in charge, here,’ he added sitting on the bed to slip under the sheets.

Greg chuckled. "Hush and get settled. I won't be a moment. Gotta get all my stuff together." Setting up a few candles he set out the small bottle of massage oil. The internet was a bloody useful tool.

Mycroft fell silent and observed Gregory’s actions. ‘I am settled now. And waiting for your benevolent hands over me.’

"Charmer," he smiled pouring a bit of lightly scented oil on his hand. He didn't know what was in it, but it smelled a bit of an herb garden. He could pick out mint and a bit of lavender. Aside from that, he had no clue. Straddling Mycroft's hips he worked on his tight shoulders.

Eyes closed Mycroft inhaled the fragrance of the liquid _Oil, most likely._ Gregory was using on his tensed shoulders. ‘Mint, lavender, rosemary and just a hint of thyme,’ he enunciated. ‘Good combination for relaxing muscles,’ he approved. ‘The scent alone is not sufficient to do so. I feel your – ah, yes, there. Apologies. Working on me will help tremendously.’

Greg chuckled. "Glad you like it. Smelled nice so I figured it'd be good. Gotta remember  not to be so tense. Or at least try."

Mycroft sighed. 'I will try. I'm not quite certain how to... Achieve such a result, in that situation.'

Greg smiled. "Hmmmm lie back and think of England?" he teased applying careful pressure to a stubborn knot in the middle of Mycroft's trapezius muscle. "Breathe deep and try to let go. You don't have to be in control or in charge of anything right now."

'I think of England constantly, Gregory. I am assuming however that you meant to use the colloquial expression rather than the sentence in its actual meaning, but I am certain that you know that you and I are engaged in certain promiscuous activities England is one of the furthest things on my mind as there is only one. Maybe not "constantly thinking of England", ' he amended.

Laughing softly he leaned down to kiss his cheek. "You're adorable when you ramble, you know that, right? England will be perfectly safe if you relax for a bit. After all, Ant's on the job and would let you know if there was anything that seriously needed your attention. Relax."

'If you say so. I still am not certain how to achieve that...' he breathed in, his shoulders lifting and his chest expanding.

"I know, but just try. Just focus on your breathing and remembering you don't have to be in charge of anything right now," he chuckled working on the knot.

'So you are taking charge. Even though I don't have an issue when you do so in more... Intimate circumstances, far from it, I admit that these are rather hard for me to relax under,' he confessed.

"I know, Myc, and that's why we're going to keep working on it. It's good for you. Figured this was a nice compromise middle ground thing. A bit different than usual but similar enough for it to not be completely out of your element."

'I appreciate this. You know me well, do you not?' he mused. 'I trust you implicitly. If you are of the opinion that we need to continue doing this particular activity, I will follow your lead.'

"I am very much of the opinion." Greg nodded with a small smile. "My hope is that by continuing to do this, repeatedly, you'll be able to relax more easily, more often. Being so tense isn't good for you."

'It has never been... A problem, in my day to day life. Not one I... Acknowledged,' he countered weakly, starting to relax under Gregory's caring hands and his attentive ministrations. 'You're good for me,' he whispered.

"And you're good for me." Greg smiled softly. "You help me remember there's good in the world." Humming he continued working on the knots.

'Which is particularly easy to forget... in our lines of work. Or dismiss and expect... unsavoury features to be revealed,' he agreed. 'Being reminded... Of the contrary is radiantly refreshing,' he sighed, enjoying the feel of Gregory's hands on his shoulder blades, feeling the muscles in his back loosen somewhat. It appeared that Gregory was right. Although highly uncomfortable at first – being trapped under another body, in a state of advanced vulnerability, having no control over anything was, to be frank, rather an unappealing prospect - Mycroft was finding the experience pleasant, reassuring and soothing. His constantly active mind was slowing down as his breathing slowly became more even. Mycroft felt himself not quite falling asleep as he still was aware of Gregory's actions, but he certainly was in a cocoon, a bubble of distant fuzzy emotions as his thoughts slowly drifted away, leaving behind a sense of calmness he hadn't experienced in quite this way.

Greg smiled as Mycroft relaxed under his hands. "That's it. Just let go. I've got you. I'm always going to be here." Once the knots had released he continued with slow soothing strokes. Leaving Mycroft dozing he cleaned his hands before changing and slipping in bed. Wrapping an arm around Mycroft he nuzzled his cheek. "Sweet dreams, love."

 


	19. A Brand New Day

Sherlock made his way downstairs carrying their bags, Sultan on his heels. He was not too keen on admitting it but he had had a good time and spent a rather agreeable Christmas despite a few emotional glitches. John had helped tremendously and he was quite certain that he had in turn been helpful to John. The experience they had shared the night before had provided Sherlock with the definite conclusion that sentiment made sex incredibly more powerful – and interesting – although acquiring more data, changing the variables was an option he very much envisioned.

A smile was floating on his lips as he replayed the memories and he met John’s eyes. In the next room, he could hear his parents fussing about Rosie – rightly so, after the scare she gave them all the previous night. ‘I imagine it’d be best to postpone the riding to another date. I don’t think you’d want Rosie to catch more of a cold.’

‘Sherlock does have an extremely valid point. Both of you were quite… upset last night.’

‘I think even the British Government was shaken by Rosie’s weakness.’

‘I was,’ Mycroft admitted. ‘Duty calls. Mother, Father, thank you for having us. A merry Christmas to both of you, again. Gregory, is everything ready for us to go back?’

Greg nodded. "Think we've got everything. Remember, barring World War Three, you're doing a half day. I expect you home for dinner."

‘Of course. Are you being funny now, Gregory? I don’t spend that long... Fine, I do. But I will be there. Probably with things to discuss,’ he added lowering his voice slightly – unnecessarily since John and Sherlock were absorbed in their own conversation with Rosie and each other.

Greg chuckled. "Yeah, you do spend that long and we both know it. That's one thing we're both going to have to work on. Not working late unless there's a damn good reason to. I'm sure I can convince you that there's much better ways to spend an evening and night than at your desk working away until the early morning hours then turning around and doing it all again," he smirked kissing his cheek.

Mycroft's ears turned a bright shade of red. 'I, er, would better, er, get these in the car,' he stammered, lifting bags of presents from his parents.

Greg smiled, a bit smug. "You go on and do that. I'll finish getting things together." Kissing his cheek he smiled. "Gorgeous man."

Mycroft left the room, putting the bags in the car, hoping that the fresh air would help him cool down. Gregory had the power to visibly unsettle him - and he seemed to use that ability quite a lot. Mycroft was not one to complain in most cases, but his family being in hearing distance made things rather awkward. Is that what he meant when he talked about feeling like a teenager again? 'The bags are in the boot, I trust that everything is ready now?' he asked, his composure regained.

Greg chuckled kissing his cheek. "About all set, my gorgeous man." He gently loosened Mycroft's tie a little.

Mycroft nodded. 'Well then. It's time for us to go. Mother, Father. Goodbye and a very merry Christmas. John, Sherlock. See you very soon,' he said before departing, taking Gregory's hand in his.

Greg snorted rolling his eyes with a grin and wrapping Violet in a warm hug. "Come visit anytime. I'll make him make time to see you."

'I certainly hope so, Gregory!' she replied good-heartedly. 'Have a safe trip back!' she told him.

Greg nodded. "And I'll hide my coffee from the rest of that lot or I won't have any left."

'Quite right, there!' Siger chuckled, waving them goodbye.

 

           

            John sighed with a smile kissing Sherlock's cheek. "See if you can convince her it's too cold for the horses. We can take her over to the barn to say goodbye. Doubt Bridget would mind."

‘Given how exhausted she was last night – and still seemed to be poorly this morning… Rosie, darling,’ Sherlock said crouching on front of the two year-old, ‘it is still very cold outside and your Daddy and I are worried you’d get sick again. We would rather not ride today, Princess. You’re not going to be angry at us, are you?’

John smiled at Sherlock's parents. "Thank you so much for watching her. And everything else..."

‘You’re much welcome, John. It’s put some comfort, knowing we could do something for her. It’s always a pleasure to see her – and to know that you’ve at long last decided to act on your feelings...’ she trailed of, cupping his cheek and smiling at him. ‘Thank you.’

Rosie listened intently to Sherlock, head cocked slightly and a pout forming. "No horsies? No ridins?"   
John knelt beside Sherlock. "No riding, because it's very cold out. Too cold for horses and little girls. But Bridget said we could come over and visit them and help feed them breakfast. And you can give them kisses and promise to come see them soon. She said we can skype with her whenever we want."   
Thinking it over she nodded slowly. "Okay. We go ridins next time."

'That's my girl,' Sherlock approved. 'Needing all the facts to make an enlightened decision. Ce n'est que partie remise,' he added, winking.

Rosie squinted thinking through the French. "The game has a foot?" It didn't make sense but most of what they said didn't. How cases could have feet she didn't know, but maybe Papa would explain it.

John kissed the top of her head with a laugh. "So smart."

Sherlock smiled indulgently. 'Not quite, darling. It's only postponed,' he explained.

Kissing Violet on the cheek he smiled. "Come see us often. She'll love it and you know Sherlock loves to show off. He'll tell you all about the case we're working and how Rosie's helping."

'Ah, idioms are not the easiest aspects of any languages to teach or learn,' she chuckled. 'Luckily for little Rosie, her Grand-mère and Grand-père can both help on that one, if she comes for several days. What do you boys would say to that? And you, little one?'

Rosie nodded curly pigtails bobbing. "Yes. Visit lots." John smiled. "And I promise to video call often. And we'll see about weekend visits. Still have to get used to that idea."

'Of course, of course. Besides, I'm certain the two of you would enjoy some time together,' she winked and Sherlock turned red.

'Mother...!'

'Now, Sherlock, there's no need to pretend that you won't -'

'Thank you, Mother. Your input is extremely unwanted.'

Giving an apologetic smile John shrugged one shoulder. "After everything, I tend to be a bit overprotective. You know I would love for her to get out of the city and spend time here with you... Just..."

'It's all fine, John. Absolutely understandable. You two talk about it, we'll still be there when you make a decision,' she replied a patient smile on her face.

'But quite quickly,' Sherlock teased.

Kissing Violet on the cheek he smiled. "Come see us any time. You know Sherlock's usually about and I just pick up the odd shift at the clinic now and then so we're usually around. She'd love to see you both. And so would Sherlock and I. Even if he acts like he doesn't."

'Thank you for the invitation. We'll be delighted to see all three of you, and Sherlock in his own happy turf will be a nice change,' she chuckled.

'I hope there are interesting cases back home,' Sherlock mused, linking his fingers through John's.

John squeezed his hand. "There's a couple on the blog that look interesting. Maybe even to work out having Rosie help by organizing your wall of things." He squeezed Sherlock's hand.

'My wall of things. Really, John?' Sherlock retorted, slightly indignant. 'Things,' he repeated, shaking his head. 'Rosie will help us, of course, and help place suspects and threads on my investigation wall,' he corrected. 'I know I can trust her. She's a big girl, aren't you darling?' he smiled. 'I suppose that first I will need - Nevermind. You are aware,' he said raising himself to a standing position, 'that these weekends would be sporadic, John. No need to fret about that. We will talk about it, yes. But there is no need to fret,' he concluded in a soft voice, tenderly brushing his hand along John's arm.

"Yes, wall of things." John laughed. "You know I tend to forget words when I'm short on sleep. Not all of us can function well on cat naps and then sleep like the dead for sixteen hours," he teased.

'Correct me if I'm wrong but you didn't seem at all displeased to be short of sleep,' he whispered. 'I do not sleep for that long,' he exclaimed. 'Not anymore,' he amended.

John kissed his cheek. "Not as long, but we haven't had cases over a six in quite a while. Those take you a while to recover from."

'I do not,' Sherlock protested. ‘We only took these sixes because you didn't want anything too... dangerous,' he crossed his arms, pouting slightly. 'A ridiculous idea,' he added.

John kissed Sherlock's cheek. "Don't pout. As sexy as it is, now is _not_ the time." He murmured in his ear. "Play your cards right and we'll have a repeat of last night once Rosie's in bed."

'Sorry, John,' Sherlock mumbled, chastised. 'You know I understand your concerns. I share them wherever Rosie is concerned. I wouldn't want anything to happen to your little angel. And mine,' he added brushing a long finger along her cheek.

"Ours." He reminded Sherlock gently. "She's ours, love. Never forget that. And you know I don't mind if you take harder cases as long as you make sure you stay safe and come home to us."

'I know, I know,' he agreed softly, slightly lowering his head. 'I still have moments when I cannot quite believe it. It might take some time for me to fully register it - not long,' he quickly added. 'Thank you again for that present,' he said warmly, lightly tapping on the chest pocket of his coat where he kept the letters John had given him. 'Makes me want all the more to come home safely to both of you,' he smiled.

"And don't you forget it." John smiled softly stroking his cheek lightly. "We kind of need you around. More than a little. We're just not complete without you."

Sherlock smiled softly, leaning into the touch. 'Likewise, John. Likewise,' he agreed turning his head slightly to brush a kiss to John's hand.

"Come on, you." John murmured softly. "We've got more goodbyes to say. If we're lucky she'll eat a bit of lunch on the train and sleep most of the way."

Scooping Rosie up he kissed her cheek. "You ready? We'll stop and see the horses before we get on the train." Leaning out of his arms she hugged Violet and Siger kissing their cheeks. "Bye bye. Fank you for pwesents. Love you!"

John smiled. "That's my girl."

'You're most welcome, little Princess. We love you too, darling. Now, take good care of both your parents. We count on you,' Mrs Holmes said, kissing Rosie goodbye.

Rosie nodded. Nana Hudson often told her the same thing. She knew it was an important job. "Love you!" Waving at them she pressed her cheek against John's.

 

           

            Bridget greeted them warmly outside the barn. "I'm so glad you came to help me. The horses will be very glad to see you again." She smiled at Rosie.

'Good morning. We could hardly leave without saying goodbye,' Sherlock protested. 'You've been so good to Rosie yesterday. She gave us quite a scare last night. John and I decided that we should stay on the safe side so she won't be riding today,' Sherlock explained. 'She was terribly disappointed when we told her, but I'm certain that she'll enjoy being with the horses for a bit.'

Bridget smiled. "I think they rather enjoyed her too. She's more than welcome to wander about and do what she likes. They'll be careful. Good to know she's feeling better now."

‘As you can see, she’s still a bit clingy with John but as soon as her feet touch the ground…’ he trailed off, looking at John.

Bridget smiled. "Poor little lass was a bit under the weather. It's no wonder. Take as long as you like. I'll be in here most of the day. Too cold to go traipsing back and forth to the house. I've got an old sofa in the office so I might just bunk here tonight."

Angus wandered over sniffing Rosie gently and rubbing his nose against her arm.

John smiled. "Look there. He remembers you."

Rosie giggled stroking his nose. "Hi."

Nudging a curly pigtail he lipped at it curiously. Nope. Not something to eat.

Bridget laughed. "Ahhh a sure sign he likes you. He does that to me all the time when he wants some affection. Would you like to help feed everyone? I could use help measuring out the grain."

‘A nice horse. Hello, Angus,’ he patted his neck. ‘Are you glad to see him again? I’m sure he is,’ he told Rosie. ‘I wouldn’t mind helping, too, if that’s alright.’

She smiled. "Of course. You and Rosie can measure out the grain in their buckets. The feed room's right over there. Angus will probably follow you and try to stick his giant head right in the bin."

John chuckled. "Why don't you help Papa, ok. I'll sit right here with Sultan."

Taking Sherlock's hand she smiled. "We help." Angus snuffled at her trailing along behind them.

Sherlock smiled down at Rosie. ‘Excellent. Let’s go, Rosie,’ he started towards the feed room. ‘You won’t be bored without us, dear?’ he called over his shoulder.

John chuckled. "Nope. Sultan and I may just settle back and have a bit of a kip right here in the hay."

‘I don’t know whether to feel insulted,’ he retorted. ‘But as you did imply you were tired, I suppose a kip would do you good,’ he added, locking their eyes together. ‘And you might need to have energy later.’

John smirked winking at him. "Mm I'll be right here you two. It's warm and comfortable."

 

Angus gently draped his head over Rosie's shoulder snuffing loudly as she poured grain in his bucket. Giggling she patted his nose. "Funny horsie."

‘He is, isn’t he? There you are,’ he said to Onyx pouring grain in the last stall. He looked at Rosie, a soft smile on his lips. ‘Have you been enjoying yourself, little lady? I hope you have. It’s time to return to Daddy,’ he extended his hand.

Nodding she took his hand carrying a bucket almost as big as she was. "Yeah. I helped horsies. We go on twain now? Go home? Sultan come with us?" She looked up at him a bit worried Sultan would stay with her grandparents or Bridget.

He knelt in front of her. ‘Of course Sultan is coming on the train with us. He’s our family’s dog. Why wouldn’t he come home with us? There is nothing to worry about, Rosie,’ he declared, taking the bucket in his other hand.

Sighing with relief she nodded throwing her arms around his neck before running back to John who was playing fetch with Sultan. Abandoning the stick he tripped over his paws to jump up on Rosie.

 

            John smiled wrapping an arm around Sherlock's waist. "They're quite the pair."

‘Oh, they are,’ Sherlock chuckled. ‘She was worried Sultan would stay behind and not come with us.’

Smiling he gently picked bits of straw out of Sherlock's curls. "Glad you made sure she understood he's part of the family and will always be with us."

Sherlock smiled ‘I could hardly let her entertain such a ridiculous idea.’ He delicately took John’s hand. ‘Did I really make such a mess of myself? Or are you simply showing signs of being slightly unhappy that you’re not the cause for said mess and wish you’d be?’ he teased.

"Cheeky," he teased kissing his cheek. "And it is a silly idea. Good for her to know we keep our promises to her."

‘It seems to me she now understands that we are a happy family where lies do not have a place. Apart from the white lie of Father Christmas you insist we entertain’.

"I'll make a mess of you later. Only it'll be feathers in your hair instead of hay."

'You, John Watson, have no idea of what you have unleashed,' he commented in a growl. ‘Feathers…?’ he wondered out loud.

"Feathers. From all those you keep on your bed. I'm sure they'll end up in your hair," he smirked. "Sometimes feathers escape pillows when things get rather heated and intense. And you have no idea what you've woken up in me."   
Watching Rosie and Sultan play he laughed softly. "A little white lie that won't hurt anything and makes her happy."   
‘I can’t envisage any scenario in which my eiderdown would end up being sliced open,’ he mused. ‘Indeed. I will have to discover that, won’t I?’ his voice a seductive whisper.   
He took John’s hand. ‘”Little” is not the word I would use considering who impersonates the man. I readily admit, however, that it makes her happy,’ he smiled. ‘A cab should be at my parents’ soon to pick us up and bring us down to the station,’ he declared as they stepped out of the barn. ‘Bridget, thank you for introducing Rosie to horse-riding,’ he extended his gloved hand.

Smiling she shook his hand gently shoving away the nose of an inquisitive pony. "It's been a pleasure. She's darling. I look forward to getting John up on a horse. You're all welcome any time."

John laughed. "Don't hold your breath for that. I'm sure we'll be along pretty regularly."

Bridget laughed before returning to tending to the horses.

‘Often enough to get you on a horse, dear,’ Sherlock teased him gently. ‘You ought to know how to ride,’ he added seriously, oblivious to the evident double entendre.

John smirked. "Oh there are plenty of things I know how to ride. Horses just don't happen to be on that list. I'm sure you'll find out I have plenty of experience and knowledge and will be able to apply it."

The smirk dancing on John’s lips clued him in and the tip of his ears turned red. ‘Cold,’ he said by way of explaining it when John’s eyebrow rose, his look pointedly directed at Sherlock’s ears.

"Hmmm we best get you bundled up and in the cab then," John snickered as they walked briskly back to the Holmes’ house to enter the taxi that was waiting for them. "Shame we'll be on the train for hours and I won't be able to warm you up properly... Come on Rosie, love, in the cab, we go. You, me, Papa, and Sultan. Off to the train," he said opening the door.

Settling in Sherlock's lap she snuggled into him. "Get Papa warm."

‘Barely three,’ Sherlock huffed. ‘Not that long on the train,’ he scooted up to John. ‘Still cold,’ he explained. ‘Now Daddy will keep us warm, too.’

John wrapped an arm around Sherlock's shoulders pulling him close. "Once we're on the train I'm sure we'll get some tea or some hot chocolate. That will help Papa get warmed up," he teased nuzzling Sherlock's jaw.

Rosie yawned snuggling into Sherlock and petting Sultan who had curled up next to her.

‘Tea, John? I suppose that tea could help.’ He pondered for a moment. ‘Is tea code?’ he asked lowly, bringing himself closer to John. ‘Don’t fall asleep just now, Rosie. The drive to the station is short but you will have ample time to do so on the train.’

Rosie blinked up at him sleepily with a slight nod. "Ok Papa."

John smiled at her. "Why don't you and Papa play deductions? That should keep you awake until we get on the train." Kissing Sherlock's cheek he nodded. "Tea is code, love."

Sherlock smiled. ‘I can hardly wait to be home with hot tea inside me to warm me up.’ He turned his head towards Rosie and produced a soft, small, red and white hat he had bundled up in his coat inside pocket. ‘What do you make of that?’

Rosie giggled. "Stoled the hat from Santa. That not nice!"

John laughed. "Well if he did, that really wasn't nice at all. And I'll make sure you're very full, love. As soon as possible. Make sure you're all filled up."

‘Maybe I did. Maybe I didn’t. Two questions. How do you know it’s Father Christmas’? And how do you know _I_ **stole** it? What if whoever owns that hat had given it to me? You have to consider everything. But for now... how do you know it is Father Christmas’?’ he asked Rosie. ‘Would you say I’ve been naughty, John?’

John snorted a laugh. "Oh, you are VERY naughty, love. Very naughty.

Rosie blinked up at her Papa head cocked and looking like a miniature version of him. "Look like Santa hat. Like one he had on."

‘Maybe Santa gave the hat to Papa as a reminder to all of us that Christmas is very special."

‘Yes that’s correct, darling. Well done. Look at everything. Observe everything. The colours are indeed a rather big clue. It smells like Grand-mère’s cooking so it was in the room when you opened your presents. The fabric is soft and you wouldn’t imagine anyone who hasn’t a benevolent heart to wear such a hat. We know that Father Christmas is very nice and would most certainly wear one of these. Yes, Rosie, you are absolutely right. It is Father Christmas’ hat. Now… Have I stolen it? Or has he gifted his hat? Or has he forgotten it as he left? I might not have been bad at all and deserve a reward.’

Rosie nodded steepling her fingers under her chin and keeping one eye slightly open to watch Sherlock so she did it right. "Papa no steains stuff. Papa nice, not bad. Presents is in boxes an' there's no box. Forgotted?"

John smiled. She really had Sherlock's mannerisms down. Snapping a picture for the blog he stroked Sultan's ears.

‘Very good, Rosie. Very good deduction, laying down the facts, making inferences based on what you know,’ Sherlock praised her. ‘Neat positioning of your hands under your chin. It does help with focussing, does it not?’ he reflected. ‘I did find his hat last night when we put you to bed. I took it because I knew it would provide with a distraction and of course I will send it back to him,’ he explained.

Rosie smiled brightly. "We send Santa bizzycuts from Nana wif his hat?" Nodding she repositioned her hands. "Makes thinking better."

 ‘You’re not going to put a picture of our daughter on your blog, are you, John?’ Sherlock asked as he heard the distinct _click_ that John had forgotten to turn down.

John chuckled. "Couldn't help myself. She looks so much like you when you're thinking. And I'm sure Santa would appreciate getting his hat back along with some biscuits from Mrs. Hudson. That's a very nice thought, Rosie love."

Sherlock smiled brightly, proudly. ‘Oh but she has inherited first and foremost your polite Britishness. And stubbornness. And authority. And the staring,’ he teased. ‘Ah, we’re here. Your Daddy was right, playing deductions did make the time pass faster.’ Sherlock left the cab, Rosie in his arms and paid the cabbie. ‘Come, John, let’s catch our train back home and out of this dreadful cold!’

John smiled. "Well I happen to think she's getting the best of both of us. Not to mention all the influences in her life. Your parents, Mrs. Hudson, Greg, Molly, and even your brother. You take her and get in where it's warm. You're tall and move faster. I'll get a cart for the bags and be along in a moment."

‘Your wish is my command, dear,’ he replied, holding his hand out to Rosie. ‘Would you care to go in with me and find us a seat while your Daddy gets a cart for the bags? We’ll be waiting for you John. I’ll warm you up in my coat when you come back.’

"Get me a cuppa and something to eat. And I'm not that short, you giant giraffe berk!" he shouted good naturedly. "Don't forget my tea. Some for you too. And hot chocolate for Rosie."

‘Yes, Sir. Don’t be too long, Sir.’

  
Rosie held on to his hand watching people and holding firmly to Sultan's leash. "Where we go Papa?"

He smiled, looking at Rosie and Sultan. ‘Why don’t we try… this carriage? Few people walked into it, I’m sure it has an empty compartment. I’ll text John where we are so he finds us quickly,’ he said before she could voice her worry.

Holding tightly to his hand Rosie followed him. Settling on the seat she snuggled Sultan close. "I get hot chocwate, Papa? Pease. It cold."


	20. Going Back Home

John arrived a few minutes later, cheeks pink from the cold. "There you are. What a nice spot you managed to get for us." He sat rolling his shoulder to stretch it a bit. The cold always made it tighten up.

Sherlock smiled as John entered and gestured towards the seats. ‘Come sit down. Rosie has already mandated me to get hot beverages,’ he chuckled. ‘Hot chocolate, even though I suspect it won’t be as nice as Grand-mère’s.’ He cocked his head. ‘And special treatment for that shoulder of yours. When we’re home, obviously,’ he added before John could say something.

John nodded. "Don’t forget my tea. The snow is making it feel colder than it actually is." Hugging Rosie he kissed her cheek. "And thank you. It's been much worse but it's getting tight and uncomfortable."

‘There’s no need to thank me. You should know I’ll take care of you. I’m a bit disgruntled that it’s come back already… But that’s the cold for you, I suppose. As long as the pain has not come back along with the soreness… Yes, I’ll take care of you.  It’s a good thing our bags are not as heavy as they were on the way in. Now rest, I’ll be back shortly. My darling,’ he added fondly, his voice warm and soft.

Settling Rosie in his lap with Sultan he nodded. "It's been much worse. Now it's just tight and aches. I appreciate it. You're better than any physical therapist I've had. Better looking too." He teased. "Don't be gone too long."

‘I certainly hope so,’ he huffed. Sliding the doors to their compartment, Sherlock returned twenty minutes later with their beverages, a look of annoyance on his face. ‘Twenty minutes!’ he exclaimed. ‘There was an awfully long queue. Pedestrians. Should have gone first class. Or have Mycroft commandeer a lift for us. A warm one,’ he complained as he gave John his tea and Rosie her… ‘Ah. Well. Asleep already?’

John smiled shifting Rosie a bit and tucking her under Sherlock's coat with Sultan. "You were barely out the door than she'd dropped off. She's still not feeling quite herself. Better, but still not quite back to her usual self." Chuckling at Sherlock's impatience he shook his head. "This is fine, love. Really. A few hours on a train with you and Rosie is quality time I don't want to sacrifice just so we don't have to deal with a few people."

‘Even so,’ he grumbled, sat next to John. ‘We’ve been deprived of twenty minutes together and that’s unacceptable.’ His eyes lit up. ‘I’ll file a complaint for poor customer service.’ He grew thoughtful for a moment. ‘Hopefully she’ll be back to her usual self come New Year’s Eve. Or before that? What is your medical opinion, Doctor Watson?’

Leaning into him and taking his hand he smiled. "Mm a few more days of trying to keep her activity level a bit lower, trying to get her to bed a bit earlier, trying to get her to nap a bit longer, she should be right as rain in a few more days. Just the first time of many she'll be sick, I'm sure." He kissed his cheek. "You don't know how happy it made me to watch her happily go off with you while I took care of the bags. Didn't worry her at all. She was with Papa and knew she'd be perfectly safe. No reason for worry."

‘Instinctive trust. She trusts you. She knows you trust me implicitly. Therefore she trusts me. An elementary deduction, John, but one I am especially glad you brought to my attention,’ he said softly, putting an arm around John to hold him closer. 'She'll never have reason to worry with me and neither will you,' he promised.

"Mm and you're her Papa. She loves you and trusts you and knows you'd keep her just as safe as I would. Any time she's needed you, you've been there. That's why she's so willing to go with you. She loves you, Sherlock. She'll worry, just never that we love her and want what's best and will do anything to keep her safe."

Sherlock imperceptibly closed his eyes. Twice John had told him that his - _their_ \- daughter loved him. Not twice in the course of several days. Twice in the same sentence. He let out a slow breath. 'Despite all the evidence there must be of her feeling that way hearing you say so makes it... More real. It makes it more than simply relying on instinct. I don't know what to think about it,' he confessed.

"Don't think this time. Just feel. You've seen the way she lights up when you walk in the room, and how she's always eager to show you something, the way she sits when she's thinking and copies your thinking pose. She's more than a bit mad about you. Has been from the start and I don't ever see it changing. Probably will when she's a teenager, but if we're very lucky, we might get by with her not hating us for a few years."

'Feeling. You know I'm not that good when it comes to it. I don't quite understand the processes involved,' he replied. 'Why would she hate us? It's not as if she weren't wanted and cherished,' Sherlock sounded puzzled.

"Because parents expect 'unreasonable' things from teenagers like not staying out late, knowing where they are and who they're with, meeting their friends, doing their homework, you know unreasonable demands like that.' He chuckled softly. "And you do just fine with feeling. Didn't seem to have any problem with feeling and feelings last night."

'How can you start thinking so far ahead? Anticipate problems before they arise? It's my prerogative. In any case I can tell you that Rosie will know that whatever our expectations are by that time come from the same place as they do now.' Sherlock raised an eyebrow. 'Ah, no. Indeed. It was very... enlightening. Immensely pleasurable. The added element of feelings... Sex was all the more intense thanks to it.'

John smiled kissing along Sherlock's jaw softly. "Mm told you. Told you it would be amazing. And I'm going to hazard a guess and say that it's only going to get better from here on. As for Rosie, I hope she won't be one of those teenagers. Even if she is, we'll love her anyway. She'll love us too, just won't be as willing to show it. It's part of being a parent you just accept."

'If you're trying to scare me into not being her parent you are hardly succeeding. Have you forgotten how stubborn I can be?' he teased. 'Besides, your Christmas present makes it all the more improbable.' He extended his neck a little to the side, inviting. 'A guess, John? Make it a theory we'll have to demonstrate by doing countless experiments,' he squeezed John's hand, placing it on his thigh.

"Not trying to scare you, trying to recruit you." He teased repeating Sherlock's words back to him with a smile. "And just a warning, that's all. Just don't want either of us blindsided by it in a few years. But if it happens, we probably will be." Nuzzling along His neck he smiled. "Glad you like your present so much. I was sure you would, but that didn't keep me from worrying and second guessing. Do you think there's enough information to make a sound theory? Because as much as I complain about you using me for experiments I think I could and should make an exception in this instance."

'John you don't need to try and recruit me,' he chuckled. 'You should know that where my Captain goes, I go,' he continued warmly. 'Second-guessing,' he shook his head. 'And yet you did not let any of it show. I'm not sure whether I should be proud or concerned,' he mused. 'I don't have enough data to assert anything definitive on this intimate subject. I did say 'countless experiments', did I not?' he smirked. 'Although I should add that I am pleased that you've seen the light and are willing to be part of said experiments.'

"I like the idea of countless. You think away and come up with whatever ideas you can think of. I'll let you do whatever you want. Within reason. And if you think I might say no, ask. Just remember, within reason." He chuckled. "And I'd really hope you'd be proud. I'd like to think I've learned a thing or two from you over the years." He chuckled kissing along his jaw lightly.

'Mh, I am proud,' he declared. 'As it happens I know for certain that you'll continue learning from me. In all probability I should as well.' Sherlock fell silent for a moment. '"Within reason". I will have to ask you in any case, it seems,' he remarked, lightly tracing his fingers along John's left thigh. He felt silent once again.

John smiled softly resting his head on Sherlock's shoulder and nuzzling along his jaw. "Mm do your research and think of everything you want, love. I'm game. Within reason. No hanging from the ceiling, no acrobatics. I'm not that flexible. Not like you." He teased gently. "And I'm sure you'll learn a fair bit from me too."

| 

##### Liam  
  
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Sherlock arched an eyebrow. 'Oh, John. You can be certain I will do even more research than I already did. Although I should let you know that taking control is... Daunting. And a first.'

"You'll be fine, love. You're bossy anyway. Should come natural to you." He teased with a warm chuckle. "We'll talk over what you'd like to try once we get home and get Rosie and Sultan to sleep."

'Mh, I wouldn't be so sure about that, Captain. You're hiding your game well but I'm certain you're more... Dominant than you let on and that last night was simply a foretaste of what you're really made of, Captain,' he countered.

"Oh believe me it _was_ just the appetizer for the main course. But just to make things clear, I am more than ok with you taking charge too. Whenever the mood strikes. I'm 'flexible' like that." He smirked nipping his ear lightly.

Sherlock's breath hitched. 'Oh. You're talking about... Oh. That... Makes it easier.' John had only been teasing at his god damn _ear_ and Sherlock was already fighting to get words out and form full sentences. He was slightly irritated by this and more than a little bit awed by John's ability to take control by doing very little. He had been shown a very good example at how wide this ability extended - and it was just a foretaste? Sherlock was absolutely done for.

"Yes, love. I'm talking about switching. Whenever you feel like it. I don't mind..." He husked, again echoing Sherlock's words. "God I love watching you like this. Probably shouldn't. Should probably feel a bit guilty, but I don't. Love knowing I can distract you and get that brain to shut off, at least a bit, for a little while. And if I didn't think that Rosie might wake up at any time..."

'Yes...?' Sherlock croaked. He knew what John would say - in essence if not the actual words - but could not help himself from asking.

"The things I would do to you." He chuckled softly running his hand teasingly along his leg. "Since we don't have a case on at the moment, why don't you tackle the case of what you would like to do tonight. Anything you want. Within reason. I'm sure you've got a long list in your head."

'The things you do to me,' he corrected, inhaling somewhat sharply, placing John's hand on a developing evidence. 'I'm not sure I... I imagine you want to hear what I'd like to do tonight?'

"And the things you do to me too, love. In fact this is giving me a hell of an idea for later." He husked in Sherlock's ear. "And I'd love to hear what you're thinking of for tonight."

'I will... Try. But you are being extremely distracting here, John,' he reproached weakly. 'If I tell you I want you to use me would that be... Good? After we've taken a good long bath together and I explored your body and prepared you, obviously.'

"That sounds like a perfect evening, love. Absolutely perfect. A nice, long, hot bath to relax us and then I'll show you just how well I know how to ride." He husked deeply stroking his thigh.

Sherlock let out a soft, low whimper. 'Can't come too soon,' he breathed.

"Well I'd prefer you didn't come too soon..." John smirked. "You're amazing..."

'John...,' he pleaded softly. 'I've not done... anything yet. You said when we're home.'

"I know." He smiled. "Do you want me to stop?"

'Hm, John... I, I think it... I don't know,' he faltered, pressing his body against John’s, digging into his thigh. ‘No,’ he breathed, his voice barely a murmur. ‘Don’t stop. Please.’

"All right then." John murmured softly hand moving lightly. "Just take a moment. All the time you need, actually. Think about what you want. We've got a couple hours ahead of us. Rosie'll probably sleep the whole way."

‘Think about what I want… now?’ Sherlock asked, slightly confused.

John smiled. "Mm well now and later if your brain can process all that. I can tell you're getting to the point you need something now."

‘How can you… tell… I need you?’

"I've lived with you long enough to know when you need something. And when you need me for something." He laughed softly.

‘Conclusions based on long-term evidence and observations. I do… But what, er… what would be acceptable to you, or rather what wouldn’t, given the… circumstances?’

"Anything that would wake Rosie up and have her asking too many awkward questions." He chuckled. "If you can be quiet, just about anything."

Sherlock nodded. ‘Quiet. I can do that. Never heard me when we were only sharing the flat, did you?’

"Oh I did. I was just polite enough not to bring it up." John smirked with a wink.

‘Oh.’ Sherlock’s cheeks turned bright. ‘I thought I was… Didn’t make a sound. Apparently I did. I’m sorry. Should’ve tried harder.’ He paused for a moment. ‘Or you should have told me and I’d have invited you to join me.’

"Mm now there is an idea I've had cross my mind more than once." John smirked, voice low. "Got off on that particular thought more than once. Don't be sorry, love. Nothing at all to be sorry for. I was in the army. You learn to just tune it out and pretend you heard nothing."

‘I promise I can be quiet. I will. John, I… I want…’ he cut himself off, took a large breath in as he looked on the floor. ‘I really want your...mouth on me,’ he whispered, taking John’s hand.

Squeezing his hand he smiled softly. ‘Hey, love, think you can look at me and ask me? You can ask me anything any time.’

Sherlock brought a hand to John’s lips as he looked up at him. As he touched his lips and made lingering eye contact, he brought John’s hand over the front of his trousers. ‘I want you… there,’ the words came out in a soft growl.  

"Now that's a bit more like it." John husked shifting to kiss Sherlock hotly. "I think we can both be quiet..." Taking off his jacket he quickly folded it into a makeshift pillow. "Not as young as I used to be." He winked up at Sherlock. "If I want to get up off the floor, I better have something for my knees." Making sure Rosie was still asleep he slid his hands along Sherlock's thighs hands unfastening his trousers and slipping a hand in to stroke him slowly.

‘John...’ Sherlock whispered, his body shivering at the contact of John’s hand. He caressed up and down John’s arm, pressing on the biceps. He muffled a whimper as John worked his hand slowly up and down his shaft.

"Bite down on your scarf if you need to, sweetheart." Leaning in he gave him one long, slow lick, moaning softly. "Mm... Sherlock..."

Sherlock nodded. ‘I will,’ he whispered, as he put a hand behind John’s neck, softly pushing him forward. ‘More…? Please. John...’

John smirked up at him with a wink sliding his mouth down Sherlock's length slowly licking teasingly.

‘God, John… more… ‘s so good… but… more. Please,’ he begged, his voice low and shaking.

Running a soothing hand over his thighs he took more of him in licking and sucking slowly with a deep moan. Looking up at Sherlock through his lashes he smiled inwardly. Sherlock already looked completely wrecked and it was one of the most beautiful things he'd ever seen. Every time he thought he couldn't love Sherlock more, something happened and he'd love him even more than before.

The vibrations of John’s moan around him echoed through his whole body as a strong wave of pleasure crashed through him, leaving him shuddering. He was not supposed to be that far gone yet but the sensations John gave him were intense. _Explosive._ ’John… I never suspected… So good… Only you… Always you...’ he breathed, incapable of uttering a proper, complete sentence – or think one. He already was falling apart. John had told him time and again to feel and not think: it had to be one of those times for the feelings that came up inside him were so powerful that his train of thoughts was quickly faltering.

John looked up at him with a raised eyebrow and a smirk. Really. Sherlock had underestimated his skills. Interesting. He could use this in his favour. Giving another rumbling moan he took Sherlock deeper tongue swirling teasingly.

Sherlock carded his fingers through John’s hair, gripping it forcefully, pressing his head backwards, resting against the wall as the ghost of a sound left his open mouth and his eyes, all but closed, rejected that sensory input.

John slid his hands over Sherlock's thighs as he sucked and licked. He loved teasing him, watching him let go of thought and reason and just enjoy the simpler things. Sherlock looked absolutely wrecked already and it just turned him on more.

‘John...’ he murmured, keeping his eyes closed. He brought his hands down on John’s shoulder, applying soft pressure to enjoin him to stop. He wanted to talk but couldn’t if John continued to apply himself to torture him so sweetly. He was to stay quiet and if he tried speaking while John – he would not be able to keep silent, let alone express himself.

Pulling back slowly John stroked his thighs gently. "You all right, love?" Looking up at him he smiled softly. "You're amazing. Never going to get tired of making you feel good."

‘Splendid, John,’ he breathed, stroking his thumbs against John’s cheeks while his breathing resumed a more regular pace. ‘ _You_ are amazing. Never thought this would be so… Unless you have something against it, can you...’ he hesitated, refraining from opening his eyes and reading John. _Feel, don’t think._ He was starting to see what could be appealing about that point of view.

John nuzzled his hand with a soft hum. "So amazing? Incredible? Life changing?’’ He teased gently. "And I have nothing against it. At least not yet since I don't quite know what you're thinking. Chances are good I'm not going to have anything against it."

Sherlock smiled softly at John’s gentle teasing. ‘Mind-blowing is the one I’d go for.’ He let out a breath, letting his fingers trace John’s slightly swollen lips. ‘John, could you… Use your scarf? Blind me? Everything’s just so… heightened without the visual… distractions. I don’t mean… I mean… It’s just… too much, with it,’ he finished hesitantly, bashfully, all-too aware he might have said something not good. ‘Please?’

Squeezing his hand he nodded pressing a kiss to Sherlock's palm. "Mm... discovering new things about you all the time. What's next, furry handcuffs?" He replied only half teasing. He'd always suspected that underneath those tight shirts and the swirl of the coat that Sherlock had a kinky streak a mile wide. Looping the soft fabric around Sherlock's eyes he stole a kiss. "Ok? Not too tight?"

‘Furry handcuffs,’ he repeated in a scoff. ‘Furry...’ he trailed off, exhaling softly as he realised that John was not in the least put out by his request. Feeling the fabric of John’s scarf and smelling the lingering fragrance of his cologne mixed with his own personal smell, relief washed over him as John’s lips took his even for a fleeting moment. He nodded and chased after them.

"Furry handcuffs." He whispered with a nip to Sherlock's ear chuckling as he watched Sherlock relax. "See, told you I wouldn't say no. Simple request really. Not too unusual at all. If it's something that helps you then I'm more than willing to try it. Better now?"

‘Could be better,’ he teased. ‘I think I rather liked having you on your knees. _Sucking me off_ ,’ he precised in a low voice, not shying away from the lewd wording.

"You bastard, using that voice against me. Not bloody fair and you know it. And I promise you can watch all you like later when we don't have to be so quiet." Stroking him slowly he sucked a long slow stripe. "Mm best tasting lolly I've ever had."

‘Hm, should hope so,’ he said, a hand coming back onto John’s head, the other gripping his biceps. The warmth of John’s mouth was increased, his tongue let hot trails along his prick, the strength of John’s hand was more apparent, the control he had over it more obvious, the calluses on them as he’d handle weapons more prominent. Sherlock could hear, feel more clearly his heartbeat increase as pleasure built up inside him, as John’s ministrations took him apart ever so slowly.

Humming John took his time licking and sucking, stroking what wouldn't fit in his mouth. Looking up at Sherlock he smiled softly. He was one lucky bastard to have Sherlock in his life. Not to mention in his bed.

A fresh wave of pleasure swept through him as he felt John’s lips broaden in a smile and his hand stroke more firmly to make up for the change in friction, the vibration of his humming coursing through Sherlock’s body, swift and all consuming. ‘John...’ he gasped. ‘Ssso good...’

Ah there it was. Just the hint of a lisp that was the tell-tale sign that Sherlock had stopped thinking and was now thoroughly enjoying himself. Humming John licked slowly, taking his time.

Sherlock was extremely aware of every sensation, every attention John bestowed on him. He felt the warmth of his breath as he let him go to trace his teasing tongue around him, he felt John’s teeth slightly, so slightly graze against the tender flesh of his prick, heard with absolute clarity the obscene, arousing sound of sucking. ‘Hmm, don’t stop… John...’ he dug his fingernails so deep in John’s arm that were he not wearing clothes Sherlock surely would have left deep and clear indentations on his skin.

"God, you are beautiful." He murmured nuzzling gently. Kissing the hand that was gripping his arm so tightly John smiled softly. "So lucky. Best thing to ever happen to me. To us."

Sherlock groaned, keeping his voice low. ‘Don’t agree. _You_ ’re... the best… John, I…’ The words he wanted to say got stuck in his throat, bringing his other hand to grasp John’s nape, mouth tight shut, muscles clenched as he kept the sounds of ever increasing pleasure trapped inside. He knew he wouldn’t last much longer under John’s delicious, passionate assault.

Squeezing his thigh he moaned deeply ever so lightly raking his teeth along Sherlock's hot length. Watching his love so in tune with his feelings and emotions made loving him even easier.

Sherlock shuddered again, brought down by the alliance of hot, tender muscle and hard teeth. He heard his own rasping breath, he heard John’s adoring praise even though he hadn’t said a word, he clutched his fingers tightly around John’s arm. ‘John… love you… so good. Ecssplossive,’ he panted, his face the expression of pleasure – yet controlled, somewhat. He was still aware of the constraints of the situation and behaved accordingly. ‘John...’ he whispered, a tone of begging to his voice.

John gave his thigh another squeeze to let him know it was more than ok to let go. He hummed deeply pushing his mouth down just a bit more. The last thing he wanted to do was torture Sherlock too much.

‘God!’ he exclaimed under his breath as he hit the back of John’s throat and John kept humming, evidently relishing the pleasure, the near abandon Sherlock was displaying. The muscles of his stomach, thighs and face contracted, his toes curled and his fingers grasped, clutched as his breath caught in his throat and a loud growl would have echoed had he not firmly closed his mouth. His brain switched off, leaving only the basic features of the human body working.

John watched him with utter adoration. He'd always loved doing things that pleased Sherlock or made him feel good in some way. But this, this was on an entirely different level. Taking every drop John moaned deeply not at all bothered by the taste. He'd survived on army rations for years. Almost anything would be better than that and Sherlock did not disappoint. Licking him clean John gently tucked him away. Nuzzling his cheek he untied the scarf holding Sherlock close. "I love you so bloody much…"

His body had gone limp, his face had slackened but he wore a blissful, contented smile on his lips. His eyes stuttered open, glazed as they were by the force of the orgasm John had just given him. He put his head against John’s shoulder, burying his nose in the fabric of his jumper. ‘Love you, too, John. Sso, sso much,’ he replied, his voice hoarse from keeping silent. He took John’s hand in his and squeezed. ‘Sthank you.’ He fell silent once more, listening to the beatings of his lover’s heart, receding to a normal pace just as his were. ‘You…?’ he asked.

John chuckled softly. "Barely managed not to come in my pants like a bloody teenager by some small miracle. You were amazing. I love you. I love us. I love making you feel good." Running a hand through Sherlock's curls he kissed his forehead. "Love you too."

‘I’m… how? Don’t you need...?’ He searched his partner’s eyes. ‘ _You_ were amazing, John. You’ve no idea how breath-taking it is. Quite literally. You made me fall apart in a way I’ve never experienced before. This… This was beyond anything I could have imagined,’ he brought John’s knuckles to his lips, brushing them tenderly and kissing them reverently.

Fingertips grazing Sherlock's cheek tenderly he smiled. "Emotions, feelings, they're not so bad, are they. Not when you're with someone who loves you and cares about you and always wants the best for you. And just think, we've barely scratched the surface of the things we're going to experience. Together."

‘Hm, too tired to think. But you’re right. Of course you are. These experiences do seem to be greatly improved by them,’ he brushed his fingers along John’s hands, still marvelling at the amount of love, tenderness, lust, strength, danger, fierceness these held – remembering how these hands made him come undone a moment ago, looking at them in wonder as he thought that these hands were John’s and John had said always.

"Close your eyes for a bit, love. We've still got a couple hours at least. We'll need our energy when we get home. Rosie will want to show Mrs. Hudson everything and introduce Sultan. We've got to unpack. And I'm thinking of having a talk with Rosie about sleeping by herself, with Sultan there, of course."

‘Hm, yes. Come to bed with me. It’s too large without you in it. Don’t want to come back to that. Not even sure there’ll be need for a long talk with Rosie about that,’ he said, stifling a yawn. I’ll close my eyes if you do, too,’ he mumbled.

John laughed softly nuzzling Sherlock's silky curls. "Mm.... Probably not. She'll probably be overjoyed to have the room all to herself since she's such a big girl now. I won't worry so much with Sultan there with her. And having the old baby monitor on for a few nights too. Just in case she wakes up and needs something." Pressing a kiss to Sherlock's forehead he nodded. "I will. Promise." Holding Sherlock close he let his free hand rest on Rosie who simply snuggled deeper under the comforting warmth and weight of the Belstaff with Sultan.

‘Good plan. Intelligent precautions,’ he smiled softly as his eyes fell onto the little girl and her furry companion, tucked under his coat. ‘No reason to worry, my dear,’ he declared, placing a chaste kiss on John’s lips and setting his hand flat on the space next to him, indicating John to sit with him.

"Not worried. Not too much anyway. Guess I'd say more nervous than worried." He smiled slightly leaning into Sherlock. "Couldn't do this whole parenting thing without you."

Sherlock passed his arm around John’s sturdy frame. ‘Not alone. Never alone. I’ll always be there for you, remember?’ he smiled and pulled him close, kissing his temple. ‘Now rest, my dear.’

"Lucky you remind me when it starts to feel like it's all too much."

‘Hope you don’t feel it’s too much and that if it does you’d tell me – but I _am_ here, John,’ he declared.

"You ridiculous mad man..." John murmured affectionately pressing a kiss to Sherlock's curls. "I will. And thank you. You're a better father to her than Mary ever was a mother."

‘I fail to see how loving you makes me a ridiculous man. Or mad. But I _am_ ridiculously and madly in love with you,’ he replied softly. ‘I’m honoured to be able to share your life, John and raise Rosie with you.’ 

John smiled. "Ridiculous and mad for taking one look at a broken down, depressed, ex-army doctor with a danger boner, a psychosomatic limp, anger issues, and a _serious_ complex about his sexuality and deciding 'You'll do' and asking me to move in not five minutes after meeting me. Then putting up with the hell I put you through and welcoming me _and_ Rosie back with open arms, no questions asked..." He shook his head. "If that's not mad, I don't know what is."

‘You wouldn’t be interesting if you were not so complex. As for me not asking questions and welcoming the both of you with open arms… John, I already loved you and could not carry on without you. Of course I’d welcome you back in the flat. Silly,’ he dropped a tender kiss in John’s hair. ‘What’s mad is you deciding to move in with a man you met for a day and after learning he’s had dealings with unsavoury characters still choosing to remain by his side, not caring for the abductions and dangers he brought to you, or the ghastly mood swings he has. Or the terrible lack of manners, schedule, sense of social niceties and a million other quite frankly appalling flaws.’ He fell silent for a minute, listening to John’s calm breathing beside him. ‘I suppose we have to agree we both are mad for the other.’

John laughed softly gently brushing his lips against Sherlock's. "Mm... Guess we're two of a kind and were always meant to be... We're both better off when we're together. Seems we're both pretty abysmal when left to our own devices. We both tend to take incredibly stupid risks with our lives." He laughed softly. "Look at her... We're incredibly lucky. She's got so many people who love her. Especially you. That right there makes her the luckiest girl in the world."

‘”Always meant to be”… Fate – another ludicrous fiction that would get on well with that of God – had absolutely nothing to do with us getting together. However I can only agree with your statements and add my own: everything is better with you in my life. Rosie is terribly happy, isn’t she? She certainly radiates joy. I told you you were the best Dad in the world – and I stand by what I said.’

"Mm and it's because she's got you. And because I've got you. Because you make everything better for us. She's happiest when she's with us. I love watching her light up when she sees you, when you two are curled up in your chair reading a story, watching you explain something so patiently to her in a way she'll understand. It's amazing. She's got good taste."

‘Oh course you’d say that,’ Sherlock chuckled. ‘She becomes immediately engaged when her intellect is stimulated, but her heart grows bigger every day. That, my dear, is entirely because of you. In a good way. She’s always so concerned and so… sensitive to what those around her feel. Even better, she knows how to deal with others’ emotions. I imagine she’ll try to teach me, someday.’

"I think she already is and you've come a long way already. You don't give yourself enough credit. No one is better at reading people and understanding them than you. You always know what people are thinking and feeling. You two can learn together."

‘Let’s agree to disagree on that particular point. I really need to know the person to get a grasp of their emotions, but rarely understand them – or why they feel this particular way. When Greg arrived at my parents’ house two days ago, I could tell he was nervous but I could not understand why as there was no logical way to explain it. You were jittery upon seeing my mother once more, but had you not told me and explained the reason behind it I would have stayed absolutely oblivious to it. In that respect I am positive that Rosie knows more than I and would be a fantastic teacher. She has an instinctive way of connecting to others’ emotions but I’m certain that she’ll be able to apply logic and reasoning to explain it all, just the way I teach her how to make connections to read situations and people.’

"I'm not sure the world is quite ready for the two of you..." He chuckled softly. "You've got better. You're much better about understanding people's emotions. And it's usually the ones we're closest to that we have the hardest time understanding. Harry's still a mystery to me most of the time and I've known her our whole lives. Even you sometimes catch me off guard. Always will. And I'm always going to love it."

‘As do you, dear. You are an ongoing mystery to me and although “always” is quite a long time, I hope you’ll let me be surprised by you for such a time,’ he confessed, pressing himself closer to John’s body, sighing. ‘A happy family,’ he commented, taking in the sight of Rosie soundly sleeping with Sultan under the warmth of his coat and that of the man he loved, leaning contentedly next to him.

"Mm and it's complete now." He nuzzled Sherlock's cheek. "You, me, Rosie, Sultan. What more could I need?" Well there was the faint thought of more kids, of adopting, but that would come later. For now, Rosie was more than enough.

Sherlock sighed softly, seemingly hearing John’s thoughts, echoing in his own head. ‘At the moment, nothing more. Maybe a nap and Rosie would say “a horse”, I’m sure,’ he added quickly, to dispel further thoughts of extending their family. It was already difficult enough to wrap his mind around having John in his life and his daughter – _their_ daughter – to worry about having another – who wouldn’t be John’s. Even if he was aware of a perfectly legal procedure, it hurt to think that this hypothetical child wouldn’t be _theirs_ and have both their genes.

John chuckled. "And a horse. We need to keep telling her horses can't go up and down stairs. At least not steep ones like we have. And maybe a nap. Naps are good."

'We do, yes. Hopefully the attraction will wear off before she gets into her head to calculate that it is possible with training,' he said gravely. 'She could also just as much ask us to buy a house with a field or any other way around the problem,' he continued. 'Naps with you are always good,' he agreed, burying his nose into John's hair.

John chuckled trying not to jostle Sherlock too much. "I fully expect her to do her Mind Palace bit and think of ways to get around the issue. We might talk to Bridget, see if she'll let Rosie think of one of the horses as hers. Might work. For now." Pressing a kiss to Sherlock's cheek he nodded. "Any chance to be close to you is good."

'I concur wholeheartedly, John, dear,' he squeezed his hand to express his agreement. 'Now close your eyes, rest until we arrive. Trip'll pass faster, too,' he said softly, closing his own eyes.

"Bossy." He grinned kissing him softly. "Part of your endearing charm. I'll try for a bit of sleep."

'You always tell me to sleep. Don't see how it's different when I do,' he mumbled, a slight frown on his forehead, disappearing quickly enough as he turned his complete focus on the near silence around him behind his closed eyelids.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is the last chapter for this first part, folks.  
> We hope you've enjoyed the ride, we most certainly did.  
> As said previously, there is another part in the works, very much advanced but not quite finished.  
> We hold out solid hope to aim for starting posting the second part in January 2019 (not to worry, we will only post it when we have finished writing it.)
> 
> We are looking forward to meeting you all again in the new year :)  
> Thank you for reading, subscribing, commenting; we really enjoyed having you and sharing this first part of the story with you.


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